


Filthy/Gorgeous

by Ezabungles, MermaidSheenaz



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Cheating!Lori & Shane, Consent Play, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorder, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nasty pimp!Martinez, No Carl, Racist Slurs, Saviour complex!Rick, Sex worker!Daryl, Ship focus is on Rickyl but many other Daryl/client interactions detailed, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Urine Play, alternating pov, depictions of sex for money
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezabungles/pseuds/Ezabungles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz/pseuds/MermaidSheenaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick, 43, unhappily married and sick of his cheating wife, yearns to fulfill the fantasy he's had for years: to have sex with a man. He seeks out a street walker and finds Daryl, 23 and better known as Pretty Boy, with the most perfect cock sucking lips to walk Wood Street. Daryl hates his life, and often wishes he could opt out, however he has to do it. Will Rick's promises of taking him away ever come to fruition? And is Daryl really the only one that needs saving?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story depicts the gritty 'reality' (as best as I could research) of sex workers living in bad conditions. There is drug dependency/addiction, sadistic pimp, violent johns, and suicidal thoughts. Each chapter will warn of the triggers entailed, so be aware of the notes, readers! ^.^ 
> 
> Also please have [this](http://reedusnorman.tumblr.com/post/117678861612) lovely gifset of Norman Reedus in 'Floating' for a visual reference of 'Pretty Boy'.
> 
> This chapter starts with Rick's POV, then switches to Daryl after the break. Heads up: no actual Rickyl in this chapter, but it does detail Daryl/john.
> 
> [Some notes for anyone who might be unaware of some terminology. Just in case ^.^  
> A john: a client (specifically in this context). Prophylactic: condom. Flesh light: synthetic vagina/anus.]
> 
> Final author's note from Eza, then you can read ^.^~  
> So after my post of "[For a Fuckin' Age](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3824890)", I asked in comments for prompts for a fic anyone would like to see me write, and the lovely Sheenaz came to me with this idea. I immediately fell in love with the story. We have been plotting on and off for the last week, (and she helped me with some personal dramas too, the dear!) and we have made a _whole fucking world_. Headcanoning the shit out of the 'walkers' (Marty's street walkers), Rick and Daryl, and _every damn thang_. This fic is likely going to be HUUUGE but I hope you can bear with us. Thanks again for reading! _And I'm so sorry this is not an update to my OTHER WIPs... Again... orz_. So Sheenaz, I couldn't do this without you, dear. Thank you so much, for everything!

Rick POV*

Another night, another fight.

As the day passed agonisingly slowly, like the world was personally torturing him, Rick was doing his best to think of anything other than the row he'd had with Lori the night before. She had been cold and cruel, and seemed personally insulted that he'd had the callousness to accuse her of such a thing.

He hadn't even specifically inferred that she was being unfaithful, had only mused on where she was on the nights and Saturdays he didn't see her. She was like a broken record in her defence, going on and on about evening yoga classes, tennis lessons, and even women's book club meetings, despite the fact that she had never been much of a reader.

He was fairly sure that she was cheating, and suspected it was likely Shane that she was with on those occasions. His 'best friend' and fellow Sheriff's Deputy wasn't really very crafty. Shane would often want to go for a drink with him after work, but only on days and evenings that Lori didn't have 'plans'.

Rick felt like he and Lori weren't just drifting apart. They were forcibly pushing away from each other, Lori doing the majority of the pushing. Even though he knew they were broken, Rick couldn't bring himself to leave Lori. And he figured she was okay to keep her boyfriend, as well her husband, waiting at home for her.

It often made made him feel pathetic, however, like he was some whimpering dog, nosing around for scraps of her affection.

It wasn't like he had done something specific to drive her off. It wasn't his fault he was infertile.

They'd been trying for a baby for years, cutting down on costs everywhere for IVF, but it wasn't working. They just couldn't conceive. They had given up. They'd had to. Five years of IVF had dessicated the last of their savings, and in fact plunged them into debt.

So now Lori was working as well, and she wasn't happy about that. She still splurged here and there on things for herself, spending as if she was actually attending all those evening activities that were clearly a front for her affair.

They were still chipping away at the debt, and Rick had tightened his belt, unlike Lori. And that was how he'd saved up a bit, squirreling away money while he matched Lori's payments on the debt so that he too could splash out on himself on occasion, such as that which he had planned for this bleak and gray Thursday evening.

And so it came to be that he found himself driving slowly through town early that evening, wrestling with himself, arguing in his head about the pros and the cons. Of course the cons outweighed the pros when he thought about it logically, but he wasn't really thinking logically.

The wad of cash he'd withdrawn earlier weighed heavily in his wallet as he turned his car toward the bad side of town.

 _What am I doing?_  Rick constantly asked himself, not sure whether to chuckle insanely or maybe just cry.

It was an impulse decision, one borne of his frustration with Lori, and maybe being a little pent up because they hadn't made love for a long time. It didn't help that over the last few years, Lori's concerned looks of 'we're together in this' had changed to 'I'm not going to say it out loud, but it's all your fault'. She made him feel like he wasn't a real man anymore.

As he turned onto Wood Street, he thought he could almost laugh at the irony of the street that was the hotbed of solicitation, and often targeted by his fellow officers when they needed to fill their arrest quota. He had never been one to take advantage of the town's sex workers himself, not being the kind of person to kick someone when they were down, but he knew all about it.

He would have laughed, if he weren't so damn nervous.

Taking in a couple of faces, Rick tried not to scowl with distaste. Not a one was of interest to him, although he didn't really know what he was looking for anyway, just that he thought he'd know it when he saw it.

All he knew was that for the longest time, probably years if he was honest with himself, he had had the biggest fantasy to have sex with a man.

It had scared him, to begin with. He'd thought himself a completely straight man for his whole life, and then over time he'd begun to think of rough hands and rigid muscles when he would jerk himself off, instead of Lori's soft hands and smooth curves.

So he kept looking, waiting for a face to jump out at him, a lump in his throat and a coiling of nerves behind his navel.

 

* * *

 

Daryl POV*

It was a slow day. Tricks were tough, and Daryl was frustrated.

Martinez was going to metaphorically ride his ass if he didn't have a nice thick stack of green to hand in. Hell, Martinez would literally fuck his mouth so hard he gagged, and Daryl didn't often gag when giving a blowjob. It was one of his most requested services, the first time a new john visited him at least. Word had spread of the most perfect cock sucking lips that walked Wood St.

He was wearing his best hustling outfit: faded blue washout jeans that were so tight his ass nearly looked like a wrapped ham through the 'artful' rips; his black leather vest, open at the front to proudly display his abs, and ironic angel wings on the back. Ironic, because he was no angel.

 _No angel can suck cock like me.._ Daryl thought with a wry smirk, as he took his casual stroll down the street.

A few cars slowed down, the drivers getting a good look at him, and he winked when they made eye contact. But then they drove away quickly, looking nervous. Damn. He could be a bit too forward sometimes; not everyone could handle his cocky attitude.

Scowling at his lack of clientele, Daryl sought out his best friend, finding her leaning against a stop sign and eye fucking the occasional passerby.

“Hey Sammy, how's your tricks tonight?” Daryl asked, using his pet name for Michonne's street name, Samurai.

With a soft huff, Michonne threw herself off the pole and walked with Daryl to lean against the brick wall at the lip of the alleyway. Both lounging about against the wall, Daryl lit himself a cigarette with his Zippo, before passing it over to the dark skinned woman. When her own smoke was lit, he slid his cigarettes and Zippo into the inner pocket of his angel vest, and blew his exhale of smoke in her face, earning himself a playful glare.

“So?” he prompted, wanting to know if he was the only one having a rough night.

“Yeah.. Been a bit rough tonight. No one's biting.” She smirked at the innuendo and they chuckled together. “Oh no, wait..” She mused, craning her neck to look at a car that had stopped across the road. “Looks like you've got a bite, Boy.”

His own street name, Pretty Boy, was slightly more difficult to shorten, and being called 'Boy' often made him think of the clients who liked him to call them Daddy, and that was never a pleasant thought. But when Michonne said it, he knew it was only with affection.

They never used their real names when they were working. Just in case.

Daryl followed her gaze and took in the man behind the wheel of the car: some skinny looking fella with a scruffy brown beard. The guy was burning a hole in Daryl's head he was staring so intensely.

Daryl met the guy's gaze and winked, slowly licking his lips. The man returned it with a grin that was much more sleazy than arousing, but work was work. And Daryl really hated sucking Martinez' cock, which only happened when he hadn't earned enough.

Those few nights when he'd earned nothing at all though, well, they were much scarier.

With a sigh hidden from everyone but Michonne, Daryl blew his dirty blond hair out of his eyes, pushed off the brick wall and strutted over to the car, leaning on the frame of the freshly opened window with such familiarity that it was nearly second nature.

He'd been doing this for years, after all.

Taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing it to the side through plush lips, he smiled at the man, more welcoming, but still sly with teasing.

“Hey there, big boy..” he purred, hating himself. “Ya' lookin' fer some fun?”

Using his posture, he made sure to show off his slim shoulders. Then he ran a line over the lower frame of the window with his finger, flexing his bicep exaggeratedly.

“You Pretty Boy?” The man asked, a little breathless.

Of course.

“Ye've heard of me.” Daryl breathed, leaning into the car a little more.

“Yeah,” the john nodded. “Joe won't shut up about them lips of yours..”

Ugh. Joe. One of Daryl's most regular and most loathed clients. Daryl's face was a mask of faint familiarity and budding interest.

Nodding his recognition, Daryl leaned farther still into the car, and he knew that any onlookers were getting a lovely view of his only half concealed ass. If he was lucky, it would entice another client to wait around for him to be done.

Leaning on his elbows, he reached up with the hand not holding the cigarette and brushed his thumb over his lips, his deep blue eyes raking the john's rather skinny form, with facetious yet excellently expressed intrigue.

“Want these lips then?” He teased, tugging down on his lower lip and releasing it with a little pop, smirking once again.

The john's eyes hadn't left his lips since he'd leaned against the car, and he knew he had won. The guy was stunned like a deer in headlights. The vibe Daryl was getting off him gave an air of not having people so willing, and seemed to put him off his edge. Daryl made a mental note to be careful of this one.

“Yeah..” The john finally spoke again, shaking his head and brushing his hand down his beard.

It wasn't sexy, not in the least. The guy had a kind of ick factor about him, but Daryl was used to this. Used to pretending he found interest in the disgusting men on the street who wanted his lips and maybe his ass clenched over their dicks.

Tricks were tricks, after all.

“So, ya' want a suck or a fuck?” Daryl prompted, a little tired of the go between, wanting to know if the john was going to follow through. He seemed to startle the guy, whose eyes darted around nervously until they were brought back by Daryl licking his lips, and arching his neck to the side to show off his shoulders again.

“Uh a suck.. Yeah, just a suck..” The john answered, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, the motion awkward due to his position in the car seat.

Great. Just a suck. That wasn't exactly going to please Martinez, and Daryl wouldn't be keeping much at all for himself. But the night was still fairly young; Daryl could hope for another client as the evening went on, as it often got more busy after nightfall. Still, it was a slow day.

“Alright.” Daryl grinned, hating how easily it slid onto his face these days. “Ya' wanna go park somewhere?”

“Yeah.. Yeah. How much?” The guy asked, wallet open in his hand.

“sixty fer a suck, or eighty without a rubber.” Daryl informed the guy, catching his lower lip between his teeth again. “And yer name, big boy..”

The guy's eyebrows raised, and he looked back down to his wallet, rifling through his cash and mumbling about the price.

So Daryl was a bit more expensive than most others for a blowjob, but clients very rarely regretted paying the high fee once they'd had his lips around their cock.

“Guess Joe forgot to mention how pricey you are, fella,” the john said, handing over a wad of cash. “And the name's Len.”

Daryl took the cash and leafed through it, counting the notes, after flicking his cigarette butt on the ground. Sixty dollars. _Guess Joe didn't talk me up enough.._

“Ya' sure ya' don't want these lips right on ya'?” Daryl purred, fanning the cash in his hand, still leaning into the car.

“'s too expensive..” Len muttered, still gazing longingly at his wallet, and Daryl expertly held back the scowl that wanted to adorn his face.

“Alrigh'.” Daryl said again, beaming as if it wasn't annoying as hell.

But to exaggerate the point of what Len was missing out on, Daryl arched his back to slide out his wallet in a smooth movement, pushing out his chest. Len didn't miss that, now watching Daryl again. Daryl put way too much shoulder into putting the money away, then arched his back again to put the wallet away like he was dancing. And Daryl didn't miss how Len eyed him hungrily.

One could wonder how he could open the door, slide into the car, and close the door again like he did, and make it look as smooth as an oil slick, like an exotic dance. But he'd been at this for years.

He placed his hand on Len's thigh, curling his hand around for a playful squeeze, a matching grin on his face.

“Let's go then.” His voice was liquid sex, and he was pleased to see how Len squirmed, a tent already obvious in the john's pants.

Len nodded in a jerky movement and put his wallet away. He started the car again, off down the street to park in the next alleyway, Daryl rubbing his inner thigh the whole way.

When the car was parked and turned off, Len rolled his seat back and unbuckled his belt, before quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, Daryl watching and licking his lips hungrily like he couldn't wait to wrap them around what turned out to be a pathetically small dick.

After Len reclined his seat a bit and leaned back, Daryl went to lean in, stopping just before his face reached the john's cock.

“Oh – tha's righ'..” He muttered as though he'd actually forgotten, and sat back to pull a condom out of his vest pocket. Luckily he had a few of each size with him, because Len's cock was thoroughly underwhelming. Len whined, and it seemed he had thought he might just get away with not paying the extra for Pretty Boy not to use a condom.

“Uh-uh,” Daryl cooed, opening the packet with his teeth very carefully, so as to not bite into the cherry flavoured prophylactic. Might as well taste good, if nothing else, thought Daryl. “Unless ya' wanna pay the extra twenty?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Len shook his head, though he did look a bit strained. But no extra money meant a condom, so Daryl put it between his lips, and leaned down.

He took Len's cock in his hand and pressed his lips to the head, moving down and rolling the condom with him as he enveloped the cock in his mouth. A sharp gasp issued from Len's mouth, and when the condom was all the way down - and Daryl was able to go the whole way down with his mouth because of the unimpressive length - he bobbed back up, lips tightly wrapped around the thin cock and gripping the base with his hand.

He gave Len one more glance from the guy's lap. “Las' chance?” Another shake of Len's head, so Daryl shrugged with a forced yet perfect smile, and went to business.

He guided the small, covered cock into his mouth, wrapped his lips tightly around the head and sucked hard, and Len issued another gasp. Mentally shaking his head disgruntledly at the john, Daryl sucked away, teasing at the slit through the rubber reservoir with his tongue, and lowering his hand to fondle Len's balls.

As he worked, he tried to go away to a different place in his mind, to a happy place, to a pleasant memory. But there wasn't really much to draw from.

There was one time, many years ago that his brother had taken him out hunting. They'd gone out for a full day and night, and Merle had even taught him how to use a crossbow, how to walk silently through the forest, and how to decipher the small disturbances in the brush as animal tracks.

In the end, it had been mostly a failure. They had only caught one tiny squirrel, but Daryl had shot it himself with the crossbow, despite the fact that his tiny fifteen year old arms could barely hold it, and Merle had grinned with pride. Then it had gone downhill from there.

When they got home, their father had been furious with their absence, and beaten them. Merle had taken the brunt of it, and by the time their father had passed out from the booze and drugs in his system, Daryl's brother was left bloody and broken. Daryl had tended to his wounds in some macabre bonding ritual.

So the hunt had been mostly a wash, but Daryl was able to focus on the sight of that squirrel, bolted to the tree from his shot, and turning around to see Merle beaming at him, pride shining in blue eyes much like his own.

It was that thought on which he focused as he serviced Len, sucking and licking at the cherry flavoured, rubber covered dick and fondling away at the john's balls, earning a few sharp tugs at his hair with hands he didn't know had made their way there. The gear shift of the car digging into his waist didn't help him trying to stay in his fantasy.

Turned out those painful tugs were an indication, because Len came shortly after, gasping and spluttering with pleasure from Daryl's ministrations, the slim cock throbbing between his lips and filling the reservoir with cum.

The grasp on his hair lessened, until he made a big long suck along the shaft of the dick and then the grip was iron tight again. When he released the cock from his lips and the balls from his hand, his head was free, Len's hand gone from his person.

Remembering the john's bad vibes, Daryl steeled himself to look up at the guy, and nearly issued a deep sigh of relief. Len's eyes were closed and he was laying back, breathing deeply.

“Fuck man...” Len gasped, running a hand through his gross beard before opening his eyes. “Them lips...” He eyed them longingly, like he wanted to cut them off and make a flesh light of them, and Daryl stayed on alert.

“I'm jus' gonna.. take this off ya'.. kay..?” He asked hesitantly, because he was getting a very.. well, a very 'Joe' vibe off the john and that wasn't cool. Also the guy's cock would be pretty sensitive after a good cum.

Len just nodded, laying back as Daryl turned his attention to the john's now limp cock, easing off the condom and doing his best to scoop the cum off the top. Tying off the end of the condom, Daryl tossed it out the car window behind him, just hoping it was a good enough throw that he wouldn't step on it if Len didn't drop him off where he'd been picked up.

“Tha' feel good, big boy?” Daryl purred, thinking the guy was probably not the type to want to be called 'baby', his other pet name for his johns.

Len's brown eyes zeroed in on him, and Daryl couldn't help but think they were a muddy brown, reminding him of dark puddles after rain that after walking through them would make the bottom of his jeans smell, and suck to wash. And of course the leer was back, slightly yellow teeth contrasting against the brown beard.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy.. Joe was right..” The john's voice was still somewhat breathless, and Daryl was thankful that he'd made at least that much of an impression. But it made him no happier to be reminded of Joe again.

“Joe don't lie, but I'm guessin' ya' know that?” Daryl teased, running a line down the john's thigh with his forefinger. “When ya' gonna come see me again..? Can't wait to wrap my lips 'round ya' proper if 'm honest..”

His tone was the perfect mix of lusty, challenging and desperate, mixed with a tinge of longing. It was well practiced; he needed repeat customers, not one-off blowjobs.

“Soon, Boy,” Len cooed, and Daryl suppressed his shudder perfectly.

He was amenable to daddy kink, but he needed to mentally prepare himself, and often preferred to be high on Valium before attempting it. Being called “Boy” put him on edge just a bit, when anyone other than Michonne was using the term.

"Can't wait," Daryl purred, though he couldn't wait to be dropped off, and would be quite happy to never see this john again, if he didn't need the money.

Daryl tucked Len away in his pants, carefully handling the sensitive, spent cock but brushing his fingers seductively through pubic hair that was thick like the guy's beard. He didn't look forward to sucking the guy without a rubber, because he'd likely get a coarse hair or two stuck in his teeth, and again he perfectly suppressed the shudder that wanted to ripple over his form. The john had no business knowing just how disgusted Daryl was at the mere concept of touching him again.

But tricks were tricks and money was money and Martinez was a cruel pimp.

"Ya' gonna drop me off, big boy?" He asked Len, running a finger down the john's chest as the guy fixed up his jeans.

"Ya' can't get out here?" Len asked with eyebrows raised, pulling Daryl's hand off his chest.

"No problem," Daryl replied with a sweet smile, thinking  _what, the guy can't even drop me off? What an ass..._

He turned and opened the door, with only a small gap between the car and the alley wall. He slid out smoothly, making the movement sexy despite the limited space, and he was immensely thankful that the used rubber wasn't directly under foot.

One he shut the door, he leaned in through the open window again, eyefucking the john and running a thumb over lips slightly swollen from the blowjob.

"Ye'll come see me again soon, righ'?" He purred, and he took victory in the way that Len once again couldn't keep his eyes off Daryl's lips, eyebrows creasing with a little grimace.

"Maybe.." Len replied, starting the car and nodding for Daryl to get off his car.

Daryl arched back off the car, his hands curling around the window frame as he did. "See ya' then, big boy." And he blew the guy a little kiss as Len backed up out of the alleyway, eyes half on the rear view mirror and half trained on Daryl.

Finally alone again, Daryl sighed with a scowl.

Just a suck. He'd only get twenty dollars back from that, after Martinez' cut. He really needed to 'hustle his pussy' - as Martinez would say - for the rest of the night or risk having to blow his pimp. At least the fee from giving Len a blowjob was a start

Once he was composed, he walked out of the alleyway, spitting on the wet ground that splashed up at his boots. He had the expensive kind; he needed to be on his feet for hours on end, and blisters were not cool for walking the streets. It was one of the very few luxuries he considered enough of a necessity to indulge on. He made sure to stop at a faucet used for hosing down the sidewalk to wash off his hands. Then as he continued down the street, he squeezed a sizable dollop of hand sanitiser on his hands from the bottle he had in the pocket next to his lube. Hell, for all he knew, Len had crabs. He didn't want that shit on his hands.

Still sanitizing his hands, he spotted Michonne, leaning in through a car window and soliciting some scared looking guy, her ass all curvy in her tight gray jeans. He guessed it was a bust, because after not long Michonne arched off the car and joined him leaning against the brick wall again, a slight scowl adorning full, dark lips.

"No dice?" Daryl asked, lighting two cigarettes and passing her one.

"No dice.." Michonne scowled, nodding her head at the cigarette in thanks, her dreadlocks swinging with the motion. She sighed deeply and took a long drag of the smoke, exhaling at the same time Daryl did.

"Ah well. It's jus' gettin' dark now." Daryl offered with an apologetic grin. "Time for it to get real, eh?"

"Yeah.. guess so.." Michonne still seemed down crest.

Daryl didn't know why she was having such a bad day: she was hot, even Daryl as a thoroughly gay man could admit; and she offered some weird things that johns couldn't get from those fancy escorts. Not every prostitute had fucking _breast milk_ on the damn menu.

The thought made Daryl shudder, because he was definitely  _not_ into that stuff, and didn't imagine he would be, even if he was wont to fuck a woman.

"Fuck 'im. He's missin' out, Sammy. Ye'll get a good trick. Got a good feelin' about tonight fer some reason." Daryl said, trying to cheer her up.

Michonne stared at him incredulously and he shrugged with a bemused grin. He didn't really have a good feeling. Never did. But he didn't like to see his best and nearly _only_ friend in the world so disappointed.

"Would ya' stop starin' at me like that an' gimmie a swig of yer water? Cherry rubber or no, I don't wanna be tastin' that john's cock.." Daryl whinged.

Michonne laughed at him and handed him the water bottle out of her bag, from which he promptly pulled a large mouthful and spat it out, going back for a gurgle on the next.

"Got some mouthwash?" He asked, his eyes watering a little from the fast drink.

"Always." Michonne smirked at him and handed him a tiny bottle of mouthwash. "You know, sometimes I think you only hang out with me for my supplies..?" She trailed off as he gurgled some mouthwash and handed that and the water back to her.

"Ya' know I love ya', Sammy." He grinned, taking a drag from his smoke and then glaring at it as he exhaled. "Aw fuck.. Tastes like fuckin' _menthol_ now, damnit.." he lamented.

"Oh  _noo_ , poor you.." Michonne teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

He didn't shake off her arm, but he did flinch slightly under the sudden touch. Only Michonne was allowed to touch him, other than johns, and even with them he preferred to initiate the first touch.

"What's got your g-string in a knot?" She asked, and he glared playfully at her because she damn well knew he always went commando.

Then he scowled.

"That john.." he jerked his head toward the alleyway where he'd serviced Len. "—was one of Joe's buddies.."

"Oh.." Replied Michonne knowingly.

"yeah.." Daryl kicked at the chipped pavement with his boot. "Looks like Joe's spreadin' the word about, and i quote: 'them lips'..."

Michonne sighed softly and squeezed Daryl's shoulder. "Ah well. Tricks are tricks, right? And more tricks means less pissed Martinez.."

Daryl glared at her at the mention of their sadistic pimp, but she surprised him with a kiss on the forehead, and his glare turned into a gape. Then he swatted her away, but it was playful.

"Geroff.." and he blushed, because he wasn't used to kind affection. Thought he probably never would be, really. Not that there was any reason to, anyway. Wasn't like he was ever going to be getting any on a regular basis, aside from Michonne's occasional comforting hugs.

"Anyway, how's Andre?" Daryl asked, changing the subject to Michonne's baby and shrugging out of her grasp.

"Ah, he's good." Michonne smiled softly at the mention of her boy, and shrugged. "Carol's such a good babysitter, her and her Sophia.. not sure what I'd do without them, to tell the truth.." Michonne took another drag and threw the butt on the ground, stubbing it out with her Doc Martin.

Her voice had a tinge of resentment, but Daryl knew it wasn't for the woman Michonne had met at the shelter, who had taken refuge there with her daughter after she'd taken a particularly bad beating from her asshole husband.

Daryl knew the resentment was just about needing the help. Michonne longed to be independent. Hell, they all did. Only they all knew it wasn't likely to ever happen. They were most likely lifers. They knew it, and mostly accepted it, although Daryl often thought of opting out, however he had to do it..

Daryl and Michonne stood in silence for a while. It was a comfortable silence. She was probably the only one he felt comfortable around, despite the fact that he had known her for less than a year, and she was a good six years older than him. They just clicked.

She lived with another of 'Marty's Walkers', but the guy was a total drama queen, Daryl thought. He and Michonne's roommate didn't really get along. They had more of a rivalry. They had even had stupid little competitions, but Daryl almost always came out on top, even if he was technically on bottom.

He'd been in it for years, since he was seventeen. Martinez had taken Daryl under his wing after Daryl had had too much of his brother's outward drug use, deals, and violence in the house, even ending up as the victim of Merle's clients' rages when he couldn't come up with the stuff because the asshole had indulged himself. So Daryl had lived with Martinez for a while, having had nowhere else to go. And it had all gone downhill from there.

"Hey." Michonne nudged his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie. He looked back at her with creased eyebrows and a frown.

"What?" He braced himself for a useless 'pep talk', given she had probably figured out the gist of his train of thought.

But her eyes were not on him. She was looking away from him, across the road at a car. He followed her gaze to the dark blue sedan, and noted the man inside who had been staring at him through the open passenger side window, but was now looking away.

"Think you might have another trick, but he looks a bit shy or something.. pretty sure that car's been doing laps though.." she murmured. "Maybe a first timer?"

"Maybe.." Daryl mused, thinking the guy looked kind of handsome, even in profile. He could do with a looker, after that gross, scruffy buddy of Joe's. "Time to work my magic?" He turned to her with a smirk and she returned it.

"Yeah, go get him, Boy." And she nudged him again.

"Alrigh', alright.." He whined facetiously, pushing himself off the wall and flicking the butt of his cigarette on the ground. "How do I look?" He asked, smirk still plastered on his face, because he  _knew_ he looked good, and he was pretty damn sure that his lips were mostly back to normal after being a little puffy from that blowjob.

"Like you're ready to turn a trick, Boy. Just go." Michonne pushed his shoulder a little with an exasperated sigh, and he sniggered and turned to face the blue sedan that was still idling on the curb across the road.

As he walked, Daryl straightened his vest on his shoulders, allowing the front to drape open so his prospective john could get a good look at his abs. He didn't just walk, his gait was a  _strut_ , hips swinging and putting far too much shoulder movement into it. It was one of the reasons he sometimes had trouble with tricks; he was overly confident in his looks, and his abilities. And that confidence melded into his entire being, making him intimidating to some.

Those factors were about the only ones in which he had any confidence, regarding himself. So he used that confidence as best he could.

As Daryl approached, he could see the man who was staring at him seemed to be trying to appear confident and composed, but a definite nervousness leaked through the demeanor. Daryl didn't mind; often a nervous solicitation resulted in a kind, or at least docile john. He didn't think he'd ever actually had a  _kind_ john, but he'd had perhaps only a little less than what he'd call his 'fair share' of docile ones.

When he got closer, he realised he had been right. The guy was definitely handsome, if quite a bit older than Daryl. Chiseled jaw with that little dimple in his chin nearly hidden by a light shadow of stubble that was probably only a few days old. Much nicer than Len's beard. And those eyes. The guy's eyes nearly stopped Daryl in his tracks they were such a beautiful shade of blue like the sky, like aquamarine - or even like Michonne's damn mouthwash, he added rather anticlimactically to his internal description of the colour. But the look in them, that was the real kicker.

It wasn't a leer, like that disgusting Len guy, though there was a definite hint of lust slipping through. It was a strange mix of curiosity mixed with.. something else. Something that wasn't quite pity, but wasn't far fom it either. Something Daryl couldn't quite put his finger on. Something with which Michonne sometimes looked at him, though she had never looked at him with lust, and for that he was fucking thankful. Anyway, he thought. Pretty eyes. And then he kicked himself a bit of thinking about someone's features as 'pretty', because that was a faggy way to describe something.

The guy seemed to be having trouble keeping his gaze though, and Daryl wondered if he should try to tone it down a notch. He thought Michonne was right: definitely a first timer. Interesting that the guy would be drawn to Daryl, then. Or rather, drawn to 'Pretty Boy'. Pretty Boy was definitely  _not_ famous for handling first timers well. Scared them off, more often than not.

"Hey there, big boy.." Daryl purred once he'd reached the car, curling his fingers over the window frame and leaning against it, ass poking out. "Lookin' fer some fun?"

The guy's eyes had widened at the pet name, and Daryl immediately decided to go with his other usual, 'baby', from then on out. The prospective john looked nervous as hell, like someone who would need looking after. Again, Daryl thought it was weird that the guy had chosen him, out of all the other faces on the street. Out of 'Marty's Walkers', Pretty Boy certainly wasn't the most approachable. It was one of his most irritating vices, particularly when compared to his 'competition'.

"Uhh.. yeah.." The guy finally muttered, and Daryl thought he looked so nervous he might throw up or something. Daryl sure as hell hoped that was  _not_ the case.

"Alright baby," Daryl replied with a slightly softer smile, and the guy seemed to relax a bit, until he continued, anyway. "Ya' want a suck or a fuck?"

The man's eyes darted around wildly, perhaps trying to find some purchase of comfort, or confidence. Maybe he found something, because he was then looking back at Daryl with something of a grim determination. However, he was still muttering when he answered. "Lookin' for a f- for sex.."

Good lord, Daryl thought. The way the man changed 'fuck' to 'sex' was like a young teenager experimenting with the word, unused to using it. But whatever the word, the result was the same, and Daryl grinned brightly, and this grin was a little less facetious than the one he'd given Len, because a fuck meant more money for him, and more money for Martinez, which meant no sucking Martinez' dick, and that meant for a slightly less horrible evening for Daryl.

"Alrigh'," he replied, arching his neck for the john to see what he was getting, the shoulders that were often regaled as perhaps Daryl's best feature. Aside from his arms, and the abs at a close third. "That's two-seventy, and you gotta use a rubber, and yer toppin'."

Definitely a first timer. There was no doubt about it, with the way the john nodded jerkily, then shuffled awkwardly to get his wallet out of his pocket. Daryl watched with delicately expressed intrigue, subtly and tactfully ignoring the gold wedding band on the man's finger as he rifled through the cash in his wallet. Daryl was used to this too. Some married man with a neglectful wife. Maybe she didn't like sex anymore. Maybe she just didn't like sex with  _him_ anymore. Daryl didn't know, nor did he care, because a trick was a trick, and a fuck was good money for him and for Martinez.

As the man finally held out the money, in crisp, freshly withdrawn notes - and Daryl knew the difference between fresh bank money and money from some awkward hiding place - Daryl took them with a playful grin as he brushed his fingers over the man's hand. He heard a catch in the man's breath, and he had to suppress the urge to shake his head bemusedly as he started counting the notes.

"Oh - and yer name, baby." Daryl prompted as he pulled out his wallet and tucked away the cash - a perfect two-seventy, in five fifties and two tens.

"Oh.. Rick." The john answered, and Daryl thought it was an apt, strong name for the slightly rugged, yet thankfully clean-looking man.

Daryl nodded and put away his wallet in his ass pocket, once again putting an arch into the movement, even though it wasn't really required; he had already won, and the guy had already paid. Opening the door and sliding into the car, he turned to Rick once he'd closed the door again. He gave Rick his best welcoming and approachable smile - which admittedly still wasn't the most approachable smile on Wood St. - and placed his hand gently on the man's thigh, curling his fingers around for a playful squeeze. The man started a little, and Daryl relaxed his grip.

"Alrigh' Rick. Let's talk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Pretty Boy make some negotiations, talk about limits, and head over to the motel. Rick's a bit hot and bothered by Daryl's touches, but that's exactly Daryl's intention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I AM SO SORRY THERE IS NOT SMUT YET! I KNOW I PROMISED SMUT BUT IT'S NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE. I vow. I just wanted to cut this chapter because it got long and wordy AGAIN ;A; Thank you for your understanding v.v ~Eza

Daryl POV*

"Alright Rick. Let's talk." Daryl kept the welcoming, yet alluring smile on his face as he looked at the john. Rick.

He gave Rick's thigh another squeeze, gentle, and slightly farther up his leg. Rick started again a little, but less than before. Daryl took that as a positive sign and decided that yes, Rick was definitely at the very least a docile, first timer. A docile first timer who paid for a fuck was like a fucking jackpot for Pretty Boy. He just hoped he could give the guy exactly what he wanted, so he would come back. Preferably more than once.

Apparently having accepted that they were in for a bit of a chat, Rick put the car in park and turned off the engine.

"Right." Rick nodded, gulping, and Daryl watched the movement of the guy's Adam's apple below that chiseled jaw.

He had to admit that the john was indeed handsome. It only added to his feeling of victory about his successful solicitation. A docile fuck, and handsome to boot. At least  _this_  guy, unlike that sleazeball Len, Daryl wouldn't overly mind seeing behind him, sliding into him with what he assumed would probably be unfortunately a tiny cock. Guy couldn't have  _that_  many pros, that was for sure.

There was the wedding ring, but it wasn't like Daryl hadn't had married clients before. It wasn't often a problem, though on occasion the wife at home would discover the husband's infidelity and that would put a stop to their 'arrangement'. Hell, one of his most longstanding regulars was married, and apparently Phil's wife was happy to remain blissfully ignorant to his hidden life as a deviant regular of Pretty Boy's.

And on that less than pleasant train of thought, Daryl ploughed on with his discussion with Rick.

"So ya' wanna just fuck in yer car, or do ya' wanna get a room? There's a motel just around the corner with pretty cheap rooms, if ya' wanna be a bit more comfy while ya' fuck me.." As he spoke, he noted Rick's obvious discomfort growing. God, was Daryl going to have to hold the john's hand through the whole damn thing? Well, still better than someone who wanted to have him piss on them, or even worse, in his opinion, call them Daddy...

"How much is the motel room?" Rick's voice was very shaky, but sure. Seemed he definitely didn't want to fuck in his car.

Didn't bother Daryl too much either way, though of course it was less awkward on a bed than in a car, no bashing knees and elbows and heads against windows, because that shit was a real mood killer.

"Forty fer three hours," a small pause, as Daryl smirked. "Or fifty if ya' wan' a room with mirrors." He winked as he said the last word, and managed to get a nervous chuckle out of Rick.

"Uhh so forty then...?" Rick asked, subtly glossing over the comment about mirrors, and his gaze fell to his wallet, still open in his hand, looking as though he'd forgotten that he still had it out, or indeed that it existed at all.

"Yeah, forty. I'll get us the room when we get there. 'S just around the corner," Daryl repeated, holding his hand out for the extra fee for the room. Another soft brush over Rick's hand when he received the cash, and Rick propped up on his heels and his hips rose to put his wallet away in his pocket, Daryl's hand on his thigh the whole way, thumb rubbing on his inner thigh.

"Alright. Lead the way-" Rick started, reaching for the key in the ignition, but Daryl moved his hand to Rick's arm to stop him.

"Before we go, we got us some things to go over. Just in case ya' change yer mind and wanna kick me out.." Daryl said seriously.

There were always a few limits to go over with new johns, and he much preferred that he and Rick do that where they were, not at the motel, in case Rick did indeed lose his nerve and call it quits. Daryl didn't want to have to walk all the way back, especially if he lost his fee.

Rick didn't seem the kind of guy to want to do gross stuff, but then again, neither did Phil, so long ago. How wrong Daryl had been.

"Okay.." Rick started slowly, dropping his arm and resting his hand on his knee. "What thangs?"

God the guy had such a twang on some words, but that was the deepest so far. Daryl kind of liked Rick's accent. It was much nicer than his own, which could only really be described as a 'redneck drawl'.

"Alrigh'. Seein' as I'm guessin' this is yer first time doin' somethin' like this, there are some things we gotta go over first," explained Daryl, and Rick nodded him on.

It could be quite confronting for a john, though, Daryl explaining his limits. He was quite open to many things, but even just hearing about the things he  _wouldn't_  do could shock a first timer, and if Rick was as docile as his vibe gave off, he could be in for one hell of a shock.

"So. Ya' paid fer full sex, an' that's what it means, but ya' can't go past my limits." Rick looked slightly confused, but nodded again. "So kissin' an' basic touchin's allowed, but some things aren't." A small grimace before he continued, and Rick now looked just plain old concerned.

"So uhh.. no fistin'.." Rick's eyes widened so much Daryl thought they might just fall out of his head. "No scat.." A look of pure disgust. Good. "And.. no leavin' marks." Confusion again.

"Marks..?" Rick asked, clearly needing clarification.

"Yeah. Like, no hickeys.. or hittin'.. or.. cuttin'.." Daryl trailed off. Rick's expression had gone from one of vague acceptance with a slight nod, to unadulterated horror.

"Of course." Rick said sharply. "I would  _never_.." he looked like he couldn't quite believe anyone would do such a thing, and Daryl nearly scoffed at what different worlds they came from.

"Wasn't suggestin' you was gonna.. just needs to be said." Daryl said firmly. "Also I ain't takin' drugs with ya'."

Rick nodded, and he seemed to be in a bit of a daze.

"Good." Daryl beamed, taking Rick off guard, who still looked horrified. "Now that the limits are outta the way, time fer the fun. Motel's jus' around the corner up there." Daryl nodded up the street, curling his hand around Rick's thigh again.

"Right.. Right." Rick shook his head, his tight curls bouncing on his head. He glanced down at the hand on his thigh and gulped again, before starting up the car and driving off slowly.

Daryl glanced out the window and saw Michonne watching from the sidewalk, a grin on her face. When she caught his gaze she gave a little thumbs up, and Daryl had to suppress a scoff. No doubt she would want a full recount of the whole time with the handsome first timer.

"Oh. Seatbelt please..." Rick started off strong but finished a bit weakly in his request, taking in the bemused grin Daryl gave him. But Daryl acquiesced and buckled himself in, shaking his head internally at the john.

Rick was kind of cute, Daryl admitted to himself, even if it was just because of how naive he seemed. The john was handsome, sure, but also polite, and seemed like a good guy, judging from his reaction to the limits. Daryl thought he was probably in for an alright time, though of course he didn't get his hopes up. Just in case.

Too many times had a john seemed benign to Daryl, only to unleash the monster within once alone with him.

Daryl guided Rick around the corner toward the motel, hand on the john's thigh, rubbing slightly farther up his leg the whole way, Rick stealing the occasional glance at Daryl like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Rick was shifting in his seat a bit, but Daryl thought that was mostly due to the hardon growing in his jeans. If that bulge was anything to go by, Rick was fairly well endowed. Huh, Daryl thought.

"Okay, jus' park somewhere here.." Daryl glanced around the mostly deserted parking lot when they arrived at the Woodbury Motel.

It was a fairly modest establishment, if modest could also mean that the place looked sleazy as hell. Then again, as Woodbury was assisted by special 'donations' from the local pimps and drug dealers, it wasn't supposed to draw in more well to do clientele. That was the intention; so that the pimps and dealers' people could work in peace. It was like a little ecosystem.

Rick pulled smoothly into a parking spot and turned off the car. Daryl slid his hand off Rick's thigh finally as he unbuckled the damn seat belt Rick had requested he wear, and Rick unbuckled his own. They exited the car simultaneously, and Rick appeared to take a moment to ensure his composure, raking his fingers through his curls.

Daryl circled the car, and was finally able to get a good look at his john. Rick was dressed very casual, dark blue jeans and a plain black button up. Daryl looked him up and down, taking in what appeared to be low-cut cowboy boots, and those slightly snug jeans not quite hiding his 'excitement', but hugging glorious hips quite nicely.

Taking a few slow steps toward the man, Daryl gave Rick a luscious smile, because he could definitely get used to looking at this john.

When he was close enough, Daryl reached out with a slow movement, placing his hand on Rick's chest. Rick was watching carefully, and there was a definite sense of lust about him. And his heart was thumping under Daryl's hand. It could be the adrenaline of doing something that was obviously so far out of his comfort zone it had his heart racing. Or hell, it could just be Daryl's proximity.

Daryl knew he had this effect on people. He knew he was hot, sexy even. He knew he was fortunately featured, and he had an amazing body. Half of that was because he worked out like a motherfucker, but he did have genetics on his side too.

"Ya' can wait here while I go get the room key, if ya' want..?" Daryl purred, and found it quite amusing that they seemed to be exactly the same height. He could look into Rick's eyes, see Rick looking back at him when those blue hues finally left his hand.

Rick nodded, and Daryl stepped in a little closer, curling his hand over Rick's shoulder. Rick stilled under his touch, and he leaned in, as if he was looking over Rick's shoulder.

"Back in a minute, baby.." Daryl breathed into Rick's ear, and he would swear he could actually feel Rick's skin ripple under his hand. His satisfied grin was much softer when he pulled back just enough to take in Rick's expression, which was decidedly strained. As were the man's jeans.

Thankfully, for Rick's sanity, Daryl thought, there was no one else in the motel car park.

Rick nodded again with another gulp, and Daryl's gaze flickered to that Adam's apple that he apparently liked so much.

As he stepped back, he pushed ever so lightly off Rick's chest, but the other hand he ran down Rick's arm, fingers trailing over the fabric of the shirt sleeve down to the elbow, then along Rick's forearm.

With a final wink to a slightly more relaxed Rick, Daryl broke the contact, turned, and walked off to the motel office, swinging his hips as he went, and he grinned because that was probably the first good view of his ass that Rick had seen. Indeed, he thought he might have even heard a sharp intake of breath behind him that was quickly stifled, and barely resisted the urge to look back around to see if Rick was actually biting his knuckles the way Daryl pictured him.

He was finally able to relax a bit himself when he entered the office, a little bell tinkling over the door. He didn't have to act quite as much with Rick as he did with most of his johns, pretending he couldn't bear to not be touching them, pretending he loved nothing more than finding a stranger who wanted to pay for his body. It was all the most perfect act. At least with Rick, unlike Len, he didn't quite feel like he had to constantly be alert. Rick thankfully didn't have that intimidating vibe.

"Evenin', Bob." Daryl grinned at the motel clerk when the man came down the hall to the desk.

"Evening, Pretty Boy. The usual?" Bob enquired, turning to the wall of keys behind him.

"Yep. Thanks." Daryl pulled out his wallet, not exaggerating the movement for the first time in hours. He leafed through the notes and put Rick's forty dollars on the counter, put his wallet away again, and leaned on the surface. "And my stuff. Cheers."

Bob turned back around, nodded, and handed Daryl a key with a large number '7' on a plastic tag. Daryl scooped up the key as Bob ducked off down the hallway, returning a moment later with a large, stuffed backpack.

"Good night?" Bob asked, handing the bag to Daryl over the counter, a polite smile on his face.

"Seems like it.." Daryl shook his head bemusedly at the man, taking the bag and putting it on the counter.

He turned his attention to the bag, unzipping it and prodding through the contents.

"It's all there, man.." The dark skinned clerk assured him, collecting the money from the counter and stashing it in the till.

Daryl looked up with eyebrows raised. A roll of his eyes and he went back to the bag, ensuring a few key items were inside. There was his CD wallet, a few toys he was fairly sure he wouldn't need with Rick, as well as the toy cleaning spray and baby wipes. Assorted condom boxes, flavoured, ribbed, self-lubricating, and of course different types of lubricants and oils. He also had a few extra supplies such as those that Michonne carried with her all the time; mouthwash, a water bottle, mints, even toothpaste and a toothbrush.

"Alrigh'," Daryl said, satisfied that he had what he needed for Rick. He zipped up the bag and put it over one shoulder. "Thanks Bob. See ya' in a few."

Bob nodded, and Daryl took his exit.

Daryl had to admit, as he walked back over to Rick, that that was a fucking nice view. Rick was leaning against his car, one ankle crossed over the other, like he was in some fucking car or clothing commercial. Daryl watched as Rick took in the bag he didn't have before.

"Supplies," Daryl explained shortly with a small shrug, and Rick nodded again. Nodded a few times, like he was trying to convince himself that this was a good idea. Daryl held up the room key, shaking it, and it made a small clacking sound of plastic against the metal ring. "Ready?" He asked, reaching out for Rick's hand with his other hand.

Rick moved off the car in a smooth movement, and Daryl thought he liked the way the john's hips rolled, though he did note that Rick's boner was slightly more discreet. Didn't matter; Daryl would have him hard and hot and bothered again before long.

After locking the car with a small beep from the remote, Rick put his keys in his pocket and took Daryl's offered hand.

Daryl weaved their fingers together, giving Rick a sweet smile, rubbing a thumb over the man's knuckles.

"'S not too bad a place, really.." Daryl made somewhat awkward chit chat about the motel as they walked together over to the main building and up the stairs. He always preferred to have an upstairs room, for more privacy with his clients, and room seven was his favourite. Just liked the number, for no particular reason. "Bob - the clerk - he's pretty cruisey.."

"That's good.." Rick muttered, though he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the small talk, so Daryl didn't bother continuing with it. He focused on his gentle caress of Rick's hand in his, but then they were at the room, and Daryl had to drop Rick's hand to unlock the door anyway.

Rick stood by awkwardly, and Daryl opened the door, entering the room and stepping aside so Rick could get by him. Daryl placed his bag on the little table beside the door, and Rick entered the room, looking around at the very modest furnishings. Daryl took a moment to admire the way Rick's jeans hugged his ass, before turning back to the door. He closed the door almost all the way, turning around for the last bit so he could keep an eye on Rick.

A sharp clack as the door closed, and Rick jumped slightly. Daryl locked it behind him with the key, the sound a small yet echoing click, and Rick tensed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOON ~Sheenaz


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Pretty Boy prepare for their session, choosing some music, and then things get hot and heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, we know this isn't what we promised, exactly. But the chapter was getting WAY TOO LONG... AGAIN.. xD
> 
> BUT we think you'll agree with us that it's quite spectacular...
> 
> Also, if you would like to join them, [this](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLC4sYKJAZHjrBuSd_JEp_uCZGKE4Uf4nu) is the music they are listening to after Daryl hits 'play' on the boombox.

Daryl's POV*

A sharp clack as the door closed, and Rick jumped slightly. Daryl locked it behind him with the key, the sound a small yet echoing click, and Rick tensed.

Daryl waited a moment, for Rick to begin to adjust to being alone with him, and to take in their surroundings.

The room was simply and efficiently furnished. The tiny kitchenette had a bar fridge, a microwave, and a small wooden table with two white plastic chairs either side. A small boombox sat on a side table beside the patchy gray love seat that was facing a modest sized LCD television. Thick, dark maroon curtains hung in front of the window, already drawn together for privacy. The double bed sat obnoxiously conspicuous in the middle of view against the wall, with plain gray coverings in a different shade to the couch, and a barely cushioned headboard.

The whole appearance of the place left little doubt as to what kind of deeds often took place within.

Daryl watched Rick's shoulders rising and dropping slowly; he seemed to be taking deep breaths to regain the calm he'd lost when Daryl had shut and locked the door.

Daryl bit back the chuckle he wanted to issue at the cute, nervous john. Rick was clearly out of his depth, but as he had survived the limits talk, he was likely to continue to calm down as Daryl looked after him.

After giving Rick's ass another quick appreciative once over, Daryl unzipped his bag, and heard the other man jump a little.  _Poor sod_ , Daryl shook his head with a bemused grin. When he had collected what he wanted from his bag, he slowly approached Rick from behind.

"Hey, Rick." He said softly, and Rick tensed again, turning to face Daryl. He looked strained as hell, and Daryl offered him a gentle smile.

"What.. What do I call you..?" Rick asked suddenly, and Daryl frowned softly. He had forgotten; he was used to johns seeking out 'Pretty Boy', already knowing him by his reputation.

"Name's Pretty Boy," Daryl informed the man, a brilliant smile on his face, and it was Rick's turn to frown. He clearly didn't like the name, but he acknowledged it with a slight nod. "Wanna pick some music..?" Daryl held out the CD wallet, and Rick took it gingerly. "Have a flip through, and if ya' see anythin' ya' like, chuck it in, alright?"

Rick nodded again, his eyes on the CD wallet, and turned and walked over to the boombox. When he started flipping through, and his attention was diverted, Daryl took his bag over to the bed and put it down.

Daryl pushed the toys to the depths of the bag, thinking that Rick wouldn't have the courage for anything more than a 'vanilla' experience. He grabbed a couple of condoms each from the medium, large, and the extra large boxes, not being quite sure of Rick's size, but fairly sure that the guy was decent at least, if that bulge was anything to go off. The condoms went in the nightstand, into the top draw, along with a bottle of silicone-based lube. That oil-based shit was no good for keeping a damn rubber intact, and what the hell was the use of using one if it broke, really. Silicone all the way. Better, longer-lasting slick.

A small scoff from Rick, and Daryl turned to see him holding up a burnt CD labelled 'Lap Dance/Strip Tease Mix' in sharpie, looking at him curiously, but still very obviously strained.

"What?" Daryl smirked, and he noted that Rick's eyes had zeroed in on the half open bag, and was glad he hadn't put any of the toys on the bed. Rick gave him a slightly incredulous look with eyebrows raised.

"Jus' another service I offer," Daryl explained, zipping up the bag. "If yer interested...?" He suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rick shook his head, quickly turning back to the boombox and rifling through the CDs, and Daryl put the bag on the floor on the other side of the bed.

_"Marilyn Manson?"_  Rick muttered quietly at another of the burnt CDs, not turning around this time.

"Hey - no judgin'. Guy may be a fuckin' freak, but some of his music is pretty alrigh'..." Daryl said defensibly. "'S good sex music." He saw Rick tense again, and Daryl almost sighed out loud. Almost.

_Guy's gotta loosen up, fuck.._

Daryl unloaded his pockets, putting the contents on the coffee table in front of the love seat, but his cigarettes, Zippo and phone were placed on the night stand. Had to have his damn phone nearby in case Martinez needed him. He put the fucker on silent, though. Damn pimp wasn't going to interrupt him during the session with his docile fuck. Besides, even if Martinez called and Daryl was busy and didn't answer, if the fucking spic got a nice fat stack of green, he couldn't be too angry, surely.

Glancing around the room, Daryl ticked off his mental checklist. Condoms. Lube. There were tissues already beside the bed, and he had his baby wipes in his bag if they got really messy. Never thought he'd carry around damn baby wipes, but hell if they weren't useful for cleaning up. The look he'd given Michonne when she asked if he carried the fucking things. She'd laughed her ass off at him, but then explained their usefulness. He could never have imagined fucking baby wipes could be the magical cure-all for messes. Since then though, he'd always had a packet in his supply bag. 

"Huh.. Nine Inch Nails..?" Rick commented on one of the CDs, one of the real ones, this time.

"Sounds good." Daryl gave his approval, mildly curious how Rick even knew the band. They'd been around for years though, he supposed.

As Rick put the CD into the boombox, Daryl approached him from behind, slightly to the left. The music started, and Daryl couldn't help but rock his head a little to the beat. Rick was still facing away, so to ensure not to startle him too much, Daryl slowly reached past him and pressed the 'repeat all' button.

Rick was very still, breathing shallowly as Daryl gently pried the CD wallet from the man's hand and placed it next to the boombox. In a gentle caress, Daryl brushed his fingers over the top of Rick's hand that had formed into somewhat of a fist, and up his arm. Rick's head moved slightly, as though his eyes were following the trail of Daryl's fingers up his arm.

Taking the chance, Daryl placed his other hand on Rick's waist, feeling a slight twitch of flesh under the touch, but no other reaction. Rick was still facing away. Daryl continued the trail of his left hand up Rick's arm, over the shoulder to the neck, brushing lightly over the nape. He tightened his grip a little on Rick's waist, and took a slow, deliberate step, pressing against the man from behind.

Rick didn't react negatively, so Daryl leaned in so his breath danced over the back of Rick's neck. He definitely saw another ripple over Rick's skin, and using another sharp exhale as a warning, he finally pressed his lips to the nape, his left hand trailing down Rick's back to curl around the other side of his waist. Daryl trailed open mouthed kisses up Rick's neck, and when he reached the man's ear, he sucked on the lobe gently.

A sharp gasp issued from Rick, and Daryl grinned as he slid his hand up the older's shirt, splaying his fingers over Rick's stomach.

"This okay..?" Daryl breathed, lips brushing over the cone of Rick's ear.

Rick cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Yeah.." His voice came out husky and low, and though he might not be overly relaxed, hot and bothered was fine too.

Daryl continued his kisses over Rick's neck, nipping gently at the shivering skin, but not enough to leave a mark. His fingertips danced over Rick's stomach, down over his navel, until Daryl felt the fine trail of hair leading down, slightly thicker than his own. He was lucky to have very little body hair. Didn't need to wax, unlike some he knew.

He felt the denim of the waistband of Rick's jeans, and ran his finger around, just under the tightness of the belt. Rick's breathing was hitched and ragged, and Daryl couldn't help but feel a little smug. He could handle first timers, damnit. They just had to get past his cocky demeanor first.

Clasping his hand on Rick's waist once more and placing another soft kiss on Rick's neck, he slowly turned the man around, pushing with his right hand and pulling with his left.

When finally facing him, Daryl noted that Rick's eyebrows were creased.

"Ya' alrigh', baby?" He asked, perfectly putting on his breathless, aroused tone. Admittedly, he didn't mind being pressed up against Rick, especially compared to most others, and he was just a little aroused himself, his semi hard-on just barely tucked away in his tight jeans.

Of course, that was fairly natural. No matter how ugly or despicable the john, his dick often got at least a little hard, whether he was actually into it or not. This time though, he didn't resent his body's natural reaction quite as much. It was sort of refreshing, actually being a little aroused for once.

Rick nodded with another big gulp, and Daryl decided he just liked the way the guy's Adam's apple moved on his throat. Placing his hand on Rick's chest, Daryl felt the guy's heart hammering away in his chest. Meeting Rick's gaze, Daryl gave his best smolder as he moved forward.

Rick must have got the wrong idea, thinking Daryl was going to kiss him, because he angled his head to meet Daryl's movement.

But that was not Daryl's intention; he never initiated a kiss. Sure, they were allowed and if someone kissed him, fine. But he didn't give a shit about kissing someone. Ever. That shit was for lovers, in his opinion. He was a whore, not someone's damn boyfriend, leaning in for a sweet peck on the lips.

_You paid for sex with me, but you don't own me.._

He narrowly dodged the kiss, brushing his lips over Rick's jaw and down his neck, nipping on the way down, and then sucking softly over Rick's Adam's apple. Rick's hands came up in what felt like a knee-jerk reaction, to clasp Daryl's hips, but quickly dropped back down to his sides. As he moved over to Rick's ear, Daryl thought he was going to get beard burn for sure. Rick's stubble was much more impressive up close, but it strangely worked. Made him more ruggedly handsome, in Daryl's opinion.

"C'mon.." He breathed, before catching Rick's ear lobe between his teeth and tugging gently. Rick uttered a tiny moan, and Daryl ran his hand over Rick's chest, and down the man's arm again, before clasping his hand.

He curled his fingers around Rick's hand, rubbing his thumb over the other's knuckles again as he pulled back, his face rubbing against Rick's glorious stubble but making it very obvious this time, that he wasn't going in for a damn kiss.

Nodding his head toward the bed, he gave Rick's hand a little squeeze of encouragement. Rick swallowed thickly, and moved with him as he walked.

Turning Rick around gently, hands moving to the man's shoulders, Daryl pushed him to sit down on the bed. Sliding his knee in between Rick's, Daryl ran both hands down Rick's arms, grabbing his hands. He placed Rick's hands on his hips, rolling them forward slightly, and Rick definitely didn't miss the bulge growing in his jeans. Crystal blue hues raked across his crotch to his bare chest, devouring him hungrily, and he moved Rick's right hand to his abs, guiding it up to his chest.

When the man seemed just a bit more confident, Daryl brushed his hand over and off Rick's, allowing the older to explore his lean, toned body. Rick's hand slid down a bit, Daryl was pleased to see, to below his navel, wrist bumping slightly over the hard-on contained in his jeans. He saw Rick's eyebrows crease slightly, looking a bit pained. Daryl's body was obviously doing its job; Rick was definitely hot and bothered.

Caressing over Rick's hand once more, he ran a line up his chest with his forefinger, curling them around the flap of his vest. Gripping both sides loosely with both hands, he pulled back the front of the vest, rolling his shoulders smoothly through the holes and dropping the garment to the floor behind him.

Grabbing Rick's hands again, he guided them over his chest, watching Rick's face intently, taking in the man's reactions. He purposely brushed one of Rick's fingers over a nipple, and his breath caught a little. Rick's eyes darted up to his face. Daryl was eyeing Rick, gaze boring into the man, mouth hanging open slightly, tongue moistening his lips.

"Tha' feels good, baby.." Daryl breathed, his voice suitably strained. "Wan' ya' on that bed.. No shoes allowed though.." He smirked, making it look more pained than it was, but not having to try too hard, as he nudged Rick's boot with his. "Wanna get them, or ya' want me to do it fer ya'?"

Again a bob of the damn Adam's apple as Rick gulped. "Naw, I can do that myself.." Rick's voice was still husky and low, and Daryl thought that was actually hot as hell.

Daryl moved out from between Rick's legs, the man's hand trailing down his front and over his crotch in a surprising gesture. Must have been surprising to Rick too, because as soon as his hand brushed over Daryl's bulge, he snapped it back to his knee.

"'S alrigh' baby, jus' let me get my shoes off, then ya' can touch me again if ya' want.." Daryl smirked, biting his lip gently.

Rick chuckled weakly, and leaned over to pull off his shoes. When Daryl was sure Rick was at least half way through, slipping one boot off, he turned around to take off his own shoes.

Daryl arched over, still standing, so his half-covered ass was right in Rick's view. Sure enough, Daryl heard a small choke behind him as he undid the laces on his boots, knowing the muscles of his back were rippling as he worked. Feeling Rick's gaze on him, he stood up, rolling his torso with the motion. Turning, he saw that Rick was paused, hands on the one boot still on his foot. Daryl kicked off his own, and stepped lithely over to Rick, crouching between his feet.

"Ya' sure ya' can do it?" Daryl chuckled, taking in Rick gaping at him. The sight of his ass did that to a john sometimes. "Here, lemme—" And he grabbed Rick's hands and placed them on his shoulders, feeling them curl around and tighten as he wrapped a hand around Rick's upper calf.

Daryl ran the other hand down the back of Rick's leg, curling around the ankle and rubbing his thumb over the joint there before pushing the bottom of Rick's jeans up a bit. Trailing his fingers down Rick's ankle, he hooked them over the heel of the boot and slid it off, placing it on the floor next to the other one. Keeping his gaze low, Daryl slid the hand up Rick's leg, until it was resting on the man's knee, before doing the same with the other on the opposite leg.

"There ya' go." He said as he slowly raked his eyes up and over Rick's form. He noted the erection in Rick's jeans was straining against the fabric, before finally meeting the man's gaze again.

He rubbed his thumbs on the inside of Rick's thighs, moving slowly up toward the man's groin, bypassing teasingly and gripping his waist. And Rick was tugging on his shoulders, pulling him up, so he followed through and rose slowly, Rick's grip with one hand moving to his neck, fingers curling around his nape.

Rick's bright blue eyes were burning into him, gaze flickering everywhere, across his shoulders, to his chest, down at his crotch, and then at his lips, and finally his eyes. His heart thudded in his chest, experiencing a moment of anxiety as he realised what Rick wanted to do. Needed to do, apparently, as he was being pulled up, and his knees went where his hands had been as he crawled onto Rick's lap, straddling the man that was suddenly pulling him in for a kiss, grip tight around his neck and fingertips digging into his skin a little with desperation and urgency.

Daryl thought he was going to be roughly manhandled, having flashes of other johns treating him like an object, like a play thing meant only for their own personal pleasure. He knew he was a whore. Knew it deep in his bones, in the pit of his stomach. He was a whore, and would be until the day he died, whether that day came sooner or later. Didn't make it any easier when it came to being thrown around by men he found repulsive, but he had more or less accepted his lot in life.

And then Rick, the first john in a while he could honestly admit, even if only to himself, that he found attractive, surprised him again.

Instead of being dragged forward to a rough mouth and tongue, he in fact wasn't dragged anywhere, forced immediately into anything. The man paused for a moment, their lips barely two inches apart. Rick was cupping Daryl's face, thumb caressing over his cheek, and searching for something in his eyes, or his face.

Daryl worked hard for a second to relax his expression, masking the fear that had leaked unbidden and unwelcome through his barriers. Rick hadn't hurt him. Was polite, and didn't have a bad vibe. He was hot as hell, and modest, yet still manly enough that when combined, he made Daryl hot as well. And so Daryl allowed that to show, using his near perfect control over his face to express the approval he felt for the man, only having to force the lust a little, because he surely felt a little of that for the man already.

Whatever it was that Rick was searching for, he must have found it, because he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Daryl's, softly at first. Almost chaste, yet he seemed to gain confidence from the way Daryl didn't push away, because then he was moving his lips against Daryl's, and soon Daryl found himself meeting the kiss with vigour.

It was a good kiss, if a little sloppy, as though Rick was out of practice. If the fact that the man was wearing a wedding ring yet had sought out a hooker was anything to go off, that was probably the case, thought Daryl. But when Daryl licked a line over Rick's lower lip and they parted, and Daryl slid his tongue into the man's mouth, Rick met every twist and curl with his own. Even as he could feel Rick's stubble grinding against his chin and cheeks, Daryl thought he had to give the man an 'A' for effort at least.

When Daryl's hands slid up Rick's chest, over his shoulders and into his hair, Rick's hand finally left Daryl's face and smoothed down over his upper arms and found purchase on on his hips, clutching on for dear life. Fisting his hands in Rick's curls, Daryl gasped into the kiss that was hot and passionate, even if somewhat forced on his side. Perhaps it was just that the older man was just so damn fine that it took less effort for Daryl to pretend that he needed Rick's tongue down his throat to survive.

Just because Daryl didn't ever initiate a kiss, that didn't mean he couldn't meet his client's efforts with his own, melding tongues and lips in a heated display. He was paid for sex, and he allowed kissing. Most johns didn't want him to be like a wooden board, they wanted him to respond like he was willing. And so he did, he responded as if he was willing and wanting for their attention. Christ, maybe he should have been an actor instead. Getting paid a huge amount of money to fake expressions like he did every day, instead of begrudgingly accepting a measly wage to pretend that it was arousing having hands clutching at his hips as a disgusting man pounded into his ass and called him a 'fucking whore'.

But even as he was thinking that, Rick's grip on his hips tightened just a little more, pulling him closer. And that caused their groins to rub together, Rick's erection scraping against his, making some glorious friction. Rick must have though it was good too, because he gasped into Daryl's mouth. Grinning slightly into the kiss, Daryl rolled his hips, pushing his denim clad dick against Rick's again, causing another gasp from the older man, and thumbs digging into his flesh a little more.

Daryl breathed his own quiet moan as he pulled back, catching Rick's lower lip in his teeth and biting down gently. Rick's breath caught as their eyes met again, and Daryl had no doubt that he had the man wrapped around his little finger. Of course, he was the one who was supposed to be acquiescing to Rick's wants and needs, but he kind of thought the man didn't really know what he wanted, only that he apparently wanted Daryl. Or Pretty Boy, anyway.

Grazing his teeth down over Rick's chin and along the man's jaw, Daryl dragged his hands down to Rick's chest. Sucking gently on Rick's neck, Daryl started pulling at the man's shirt buttons, from the top down. Rick had a nice light fuzz of hair over his collar bones that Daryl discovered when it was exposed. One of Rick's hands had made its way into his hair, fingers stroking through it as his kisses and nips traveled farther down, and Daryl only tensed a little, until he realised the touch was going to stay gentle. It almost unnerved him, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But then, hell, maybe Rick would indeed remain a docile john the whole way. Still, Daryl didn't want to get his hopes up. Just in case.

As he pulled Rick's shirt open slowly, in case it was too much too quickly and the man wanted to stop him, he brushed his lips along a shoulder that was dusted with pale freckles. Rick didn't stop him, hand still in his hair until he pushed the shirt sleeves down over decidedly nice arms, and Rick had to move to accommodate it. When it was off of Rick entirely, Daryl tossed it carefully behind him, somewhere near his vest on the floor.

Daryl kissed his way back up to Rick's neck, sucking on the man's earlobe, hands roaming across the older's lean chest and stomach. Rick's hands had gone to his arms, fingers curling around his biceps that pulsed and flexed with his movements.

"Jus' gonna.. unbuckle ya'.. that alrigh'?" Daryl breathed, lips brushing once more over Rick's ear as he caressed down the man's torso with one hand, the other coming to curl around Rick's neck, thumb pressing softly against the pulse point. He could feel the bob of Rick's Adam's apple as he gulped before nodding, like he always seemed to do.

Daryl teased Rick a little, trailing his fingertips down the man's stomach, over the belt buckle before cupping the impressive bulge straining against denim, and he was still pressed so close that he felt the touch against his own now fully hard cock, grunting a little at the sensation. Rick issued a sharp gasp and his hips rolled forward, pressing into Daryl's hand as he brushed his fingers over the man's hard outline and back up to the belt buckle.

Trailing his mouth down Rick's neck again, Daryl rested his forehead on the older's shoulder, looking down between them as he worked at the buckle. He slowly undid the clasp, and Rick's hands were running up and down his arms, as if trying to keep him warm in the cold. With the belt undone and out of the way, he slid his fingers slightly under the waistband of Rick's jeans, barely one knuckle deep.

Taking his time to judge Rick's reaction, he rubbed his thumb between the denim and the man's stomach, brushing over that nice trail of hair for a moment, before he peeled back the fabric, popping open the button. There was no refusal in the way Rick's grasp tightened around his biceps, only a needy desperation, so Daryl proceeded to unzip the fly, the noise lost in the sound of Trent Reznor's voice purring from the boombox.

Daryl ran one hand back up Rick's chest, placing it over his pectoral, thumb rubbing soothingly over the firm muscle. Scooting back on the john's lap just a tiny bit so he could have room, Daryl slowly, slowly slid his hand down into Rick's boxers, through his thankfully clean-feeling pubic hair, fingers finally curling around his very hard, decent sized shaft, shifting it free of the cotton constraint. Rick whimpered softly at the touch, as Daryl watched the man's circumcised dick throbbing under a slow stroke.

"This alrigh'..?" Daryl breathed, pressing his lips to Rick's collar bone, able to feel the man's heart racing. He would have looked up, tried to gauge the man's expression, but judging from the thumping in his chest, Rick might have lost his nerve looking Daryl in the eye.

"Yeah.." Rick croaked, and Daryl stroked again, up to the head and rubbing his thumb gently over the slit and spreading the beads of pre-cum down the shaft.

Rick gasped sharply, and Daryl released the man's cock carefully. Rick sounded like he might have been ready to blow at any second, clearly being very pent up, and very hot and bothered from Daryl's ministrations.

Daryl rolled back a little on Rick's lap, running his hands over the man's chest and tactfully keeping his pre-cum covered thumb off the john's skin.

"Better save it fer the main event, huh?" He asked, finally meeting Rick's gaze again.

Rick nodded, not looking quite as nervous, just full of lust and intent - definitely in the mood. Perfect time to move on.

Using Rick's shoulders to lean on, Daryl crawled off the man's lap, standing up in between Rick's knees. Trailing his fingertips softly down Rick's arm, he stepped back to take a good look at his john. Rick's hands dropped to his knees, gripping tight, and likely didn't even know that he was rolling his hips forward with anticipation, cock bobbing out of his jeans.

Rather than announce what he was doing, Daryl just bent over and peeled off his socks, dropping them to the floor one at a time. Then he straightened, rolling his spine, and grabbed the waist band of his jeans at his hips, running his thumb around under the belt to the middle. He made the movement a dance, rolling his hips forward to the beat of their mood music as he unbuckled himself, and pulled the belt through the loops harshly before dropping it too, to the ground.

Rick was absolutely enthralled, judging from the way he was scraping his hand down his face over his stubble, then in fact biting on the side of his forefinger, thumb digging into his cheek. The other hand was still gripping his knee, iron tight.

Daryl flashed a teasing smirk, biting his lower lips as he ran a finger down his chest, over the sparse hairs below his navel, and gripped the waistband of his jeans again. He popped the button and unzipped himself slowly, displaying neatly trimmed pubic hair. He would almost bet that Rick's mouth was watering behind his hand.

Jutting out his hip, Daryl lowered his opened jeans in a sultry display, his cock springing free, hard and leaking, and Rick actually gasped at the sight. Daryl always thought it made for a better show, not wearing underwear.

He slid his jeans down his legs, making sure Rick got a good view of his shoulders and arms, hard-earned muscles flexing and bulging. Stepping out of the jeans at his feet, Daryl straightened, his hand brushing 'absentmindedly' over his cock, slightly shorter but thicker than Rick's, and uncircumcised. Rick whimpered again, erection jerking between his legs, and Daryl knew it was time.

Stepping over to Rick, but slightly to the right side, Daryl crawled onto the bed, ensuring the man got a good view of the ass that was to be his shortly. Rick's eyes never left Daryl's body the whole way. Twisting around slowly, Daryl placed his hand on Rick's shoulder, leaning in for a soft nip on the shivering flesh. He brushed his hand down Rick's upper arm and moved back to sit in the middle of the bed.

"Ya' wanna get undressed, and I'll get ready for ya'..?" He leaned over to the nightstand, grabbing out the bottle of lube he'd put there early, to demonstrate his point. "—And ya' can watch me...?" He added with a purr, uncapping the little bottle with a wink.

Rick cleared his throat before answering with a shaky "Y-yeah.." He had to push himself off the bed with his hands, and they quickly went to the waist band of his jeans as he turned to watch what Daryl was doing.

"Alrigh'.." Daryl breathed, squeezing a sizable dollop of lube on his fingers, watching Rick standing, frozen. He laid back on the bed, legs spread with his knees bent and in the air.

Bottle of lube beside him and in reach, Daryl trailed his dry thumb down his chest, over his stomach, not missing how Rick's eyes burned into the way his hand palmed his cock briefly before reaching his ass. He circled the tip of his forefinger around his entrance, rubbed at the pucker for a moment before sliding it in slowly, up to the first knuckle with a gasp.

Rick's eyes widened and he choked a little watching Daryl's motions, scrambling for his pants and pulling them down. He stepped out of his jeans, and then apparently remembered with a start he was wearing boxers before sliding them down too, followed by the socks.

Daryl had that one whole finger in by then, sliding his slick digit in and out of his ass as his muscles relaxed, well used to the routine, and he worked another finger in. He scissored them inside his ass in what he knew to be a sexy yet lewd display, and if it weren't for the music in the background, Rick would have been hearing the squelching sounds of his ass taking in a third finger. While he worked his ass open to be ready for Rick, the older's eyes burning into his hands, and then up his body, he couldn't help but lazily stroke himself a little. It was half for show for Rick, and half because he was just damn well aroused, and actually mildly looking forward to taking Rick's lengthy cock into his 'pussy'.

"'M ready for ya', baby," Daryl purred, sliding his fingers out of his ass and showing Rick the loosened hole.

Rick's eyebrows were creased, and he appeared to be biting the inside of his lip, hand clutching at his stomach and nails digging in a little.

_Poor first timer.._

Daryl reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out one of the large sized condoms, then nudged the drawer shut with his knuckles, eyes on Rick the whole time. The guy looked nervous as hell, and his eyes widened as Daryl carefully ripped open the condom wrapper, kneeling on the bed. He wasn't gonna be taking that shit on his back, even if the damn john was hot. Didn't like to look his johns in the eye while getting fucked. Easier to pretend he was somewhere else when he couldn't see them if his eyes snapped open. So it was better if he didn't spend much time on his back, in case he gave Rick the wrong idea.

"Ya' wanna put this on, or ya' want me to do it for ya'?" Daryl asked, holding the open wrapper with the condom still inside, crawling toward the man on his knees, and he could feel his well-lubed ass dribbling a little down his inner thigh. It was time to get the damn show on the road.

But Rick's eyes were darting around wildly once more, unable to find purchase on anything as they swept across Daryl, and the room in its entirety. His hands were curling into fists and uncurling again, clutching at his thighs as if he was trying to grasp the denim of his jeans.

"Baby? What's wrong?" Daryl asked, concerned at the look of sheer panic on Rick's face, blue hues shifting around fast. "Rick?" He asked again, using the man's actual name in an attempt to get his attention.

"I.." Rick started nervously, his gaze finally having returned to Daryl's after the use of his name. His hands were now joined together, the forefinger and thumb of his right hand twisting his wedding band around his finger so violently Daryl thought he might cut the damn thing off. "I.. I can't do this..."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill us! ;A;
> 
> (Also I'm sorry, but please don't get used to this updating speed.. This has been a fluke so far, but I am still musing VERY HARD on it, and hope to update again soon. But as always: no promises, no ETA...)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see Pretty Boy work to talk Rick down from the edge of his anxiety, and complete the transaction, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! No more cliffhangers and cutting the most interesting moments in a half. It's a full Rickyl experience one could say! We hope you have as much fun reading it as we had writing it. 
> 
> With the end of this chapter we end a long streak of Daryl's POV and go back to Rick's POV in chapter 5. It's time!
> 
> If you were paying attention to the tags you won't be surprised with a little cameo at the end. Let us know in the comments what do you think! ~Sheenaz

Daryl's POV*

"Baby? What's wrong?" Daryl asked, concerned at the look of sheer panic on Rick's face, blue hues shifting around fast. "Rick?" He asked again, using the man's actual name in an attempt to get his attention.

"I.." Rick started nervously, his gaze finally having returned to Daryl's after the use of his name. His hands were now joined together, the forefinger and thumb of his right hand twisting his wedding band around his finger so violently Daryl thought he might cut the damn thing off. "I.. I can't do this..."

 _Fucking wife.._ Daryl thought, eyes on that gold band getting abused on the john's finger. The guy clearly wasn't getting enough at home with the wife, to drive him to paying for sex. From a street hooker, no less, as opposed to one of those fancy escorts. Of course there could have been a different, more complex reason, but Daryl didn't know, nor did he really care; Rick was just another john. A polite, ruggedly handsome john with a nice cock, but just a john nonetheless.

A john who was now having doubts, and might even request his money back. Daryl wasn't having any of that. He'd worked too fucking hard to get the guy to the damn room, putting on his 'nice guy' facade perfectly. Worked too hard to be gentle with the older man.

And that lube just kept on dribbling out of his ass, going to waste.

Instantly focusing, as he sometimes had to do in his line of work, the only thought that was going through his mind was that Rick looked stunned like a deer in headlights, and just about ready to bolt. So Daryl had to act fast.

Noting that Rick had started figuratively sweating the moment he'd brought out the rubber, Daryl dropped it down beside the bed, and crawled over to the man who was standing just at the end of the bed.

"Rick, Baby.." Daryl said softly, reaching out and covering Rick's hands with his left, the right hanging down by his side, still covered in lube.

Rick's eyes narrowed, gaze zeroing in on Daryl's left hand, and Daryl took advantage of the older's tunnel vision to wipe his right hand along the blanket, scraping off most of the lube, before he used it too, to hold Rick's.

He'd been through this shit before. Had a john or two over his six odd years who'd lost their nerve and needed a bit of extra TLC to get through their transaction. Whether it was wife issues, stage fright resulting in a wilted boner, pre-ejaculation, any shit like that, Daryl always got them through it.

He had thought earlier that Rick didn't quite know what he wanted. Daryl was now fairly sure that was exactly the case, or as close as it mattered. So the guy got freaked out at the sight of Daryl prepping himself, then whipping out a condom. That didn't matter, really. As long as Rick was satisfied with his experience, whether that experience actually included fucking Daryl in the ass or not, he hopefully wouldn't be worried about the definition of 'sex' as a service, and whether he got his money's worth.

And Daryl was well fucking practiced at giving men satisfaction. His lips weren't labelled as the 'best cock sucking lips on Wood Street' for no reason. His 'mind blowing blowjobs' were what made him famous, after all.

"I'll take care of ya'.." He breathed, slowly and gently prying Rick's hands apart, taking one in each of his and curling his fingers around, thumbs rubbing over Rick's knuckles.

"C'mon Baby, come get comfy.." Daryl gently tugged on Rick's hands as he shuffled backwards on the bed. "Let me look after ya'," he repeated.

Daryl thought that he was quite correct about his assumption, because as soon as there was no decision weighing Rick down, the man began to calm down again, allowing himself to be led onto the bed, crawling when required.

Subtly guiding Rick, Daryl positioned him near the headboard, pushing him back to lean against it, to sit nearly completely upright between the pillows.

It was like having a human sized rag doll, like a heavy as sin blowup doll, easy to manipulate with the slightest suggestion or touch. It was almost sad, the way the man seemed to want to give up control, but Daryl was more than content to assume it himself. It made everything that much easier. Well, now that he thought he could save his fee with one of his amazing blowjobs, anyway.

Daryl crawled over Rick to straddle him, knees either side of glorious hips. It had seemed like a successful position earlier, so perhaps that would make it easier for the man, something that was already familiar for them. Rick was at such an angle that there was just enough space for Daryl's knees to press against the headboard.

He was still holding Rick's hands, so he placed them on his hips, quite aware that their dicks were almost against each other. Rick's had settled down a bit in his panic. He was still hard of course, but not throbbing with anticipation and leaking like before. Daryl figured that could only give him more time to blow Rick's mind, when he blew the man's cock.

He would have liked to wipe some of the lube off of his inner thighs, but he figured something like that might freak Rick out again, so he just dealt with it. He'd dealt with much worse before, after all. And it was a small price to pay for satisfying Rick so easily.

"Wan' ya' to touch me, Baby.." Daryl purred, rolling his hips. Rick's eyes flickered down to between them, their dicks rubbing together with the motion and eliciting a small gasp from the older man. "See how hard I am fer ya'?"

And Rick looked, or more ogled at Daryl's erection pressed against his. Another hip roll, and their gaze met once more, and Daryl saw the hesitance mixed with furious determination just waiting to be unleashed. That fucking hesitance though..

Then Rick was looking at their cocks again, so Daryl took advantage of the man's lowered focus and leaned forward again, brushing his lips over that light stubble. "Want yer hand around me, baby.." he breathed into Rick's ear, pleased to see the shiver that rippled over the man's body.

He suppressed a sigh regarding having to do literally everything, but he needed Rick to be into it again. So he grabbed Rick's right hand with his left, trailing it across his toned stomach and wrapped it around his cock.

Rick cleared his throat nervously, but when Daryl moved their hands together over the leaking erection, moaning softly, the man continued the motion. Clumsy as it may have been, Daryl was just pleased that Rick was finally doing something.

He sucked on the man's earlobe as he rolled his hips, pushing his cock into Rick's fist and stimulating the other man's dick at the same time. Rick slowly became a little more sure of the motion, so Daryl released the man's hands and slid his left hand over the john's firm chest, fingers brushing over the light fuzz of hair, his right curling around Rick and jerking him off in the same rhythm as Rick's ministrations.

"Mmm.. Feels good, baby.." he sighed as they stroked each other, and the soft moans coming from Rick meant it was finally fucking working.

He slowed his motions, and Rick apparently took the cue and slowed as well. Daryl didn't need to get off; Rick was the client here, and Daryl still needed the chance to give his money winning blowjob. Rick climaxing too soon would definitely put a damper on that.

"Wanna taste ya'.. wanna wrap my lips around ya', baby.." Daryl breathed, and Rick's whole body shivered. Daryl allowed himself a small smirk as he kissed his way down Rick's chest, shuffling backward a little and lapping his tongue over the man's nipple, eliciting another shiver.

He continued moving back, keeping his hand on Rick but pulling his cock out of the man's grasp with a perfect little gasp of pleasure. He slid down the man's body, Rick obediently spreading his legs so Daryl could position himself in between them as he kissed and nipped his way down his john's nice lean body.

Dick pressing somewhat uncomfortably against the bed covers, he released Rick's cock briefly, and moved the man's hands to his shoulders, rolling them under the tightening grasp. He trailed kisses down Rick's stomach, taking his cock in hand once more, and the grip on his shoulders was a vice grip.

"Wanna taste ya'..." Daryl purred, his voice liquid sex as he chanced a glance up at the man.

He would have asked if what he was doing was okay again, but he didn't want to leave it to chance, didn't want to risk Rick losing his nerve again. So he gave Rick a slow stroke from base to tip, watching the man's gaze burning into him, into his lips. He lathered his tongue across them and noted Rick's eyes narrowing in anticipation, the man looking like he might just explode.

So he went to it.

He started off with a long slow lick up the shaft, completing the motion by twirling his tongue around the head and finally enveloping it in his mouth.  
  
Rick was already practically panting and spluttering from the overload of sensations. His hands tightened on Daryl's shoulders, fingers digging into the rippling muscle.

Daryl smirked around Rick's cock as he hollowed out his cheeks, sucking deeply as the john's cock throbbed in his mouth.  
  
Rick was moaning loudly, lost in the pleasure, and before Daryl knew it the man's hands were on his head, just as he was teasing at the slit with his tongue.  
  
He braced himself for the sharp tug of hair, or the pressure to push his mouth down hard, but it never came. He thought he might have just about shit a brick when he realised that Rick wasn't exerting any pressure or pain on him at all.  
  
The man's fingers were carding through his hair, stroking softly with appreciation. And Daryl found himself not needing to get away in his head, not needing to drift away, because it was downright pleasant, soft touches over his head and fucking massaging his scalp, even caressing his fucking face as he bobbed up for another lick.

He chanced another glance up at Rick, to see if the man was luring him into a false sense of security, perhaps blue eyes flashing with dangerous intent.  
  
Rick was gazing at him intently, that was for sure, but not with hostility, and nor was it control. It was almost with.. what was it.. fondness? Daryl wasn't fucking used to seeing that, nor even trying to decipher it. But it was so powerful in the man's eyes it was impossible to mistake.  
  
And so Daryl was even more enthusiastic as he bobbed back down, deep-throating Rick's cock to the best of his ability, which was saying something, especially given the size of the man's cock.

He felt Rick throb in his mouth, and unable to help himself, he pulled off with a pop and smirked, eyes full of lust.  
  
"Wanna finish on my face?" He asked.

It wasn't something he offered _all_ of his johns, that was for sure. It was just something else to wash away either when he got home, or if he got the chance to have a shower before leaving the motel. Didn't like to feel them on his face. But Rick had been especially kind and tender with him, and the guy sure as fuck deserved a little something extra, given he'd paid for full sex and couldn't follow through.

But it was a mistake, because Rick clammed up again.

Daryl didn't waste time; he quickly returned his lips to Rick's cock, and the moan issuing from the man, as well as the fingers delicately combing through his hair once more indicated that he was forgiven for his lewd suggestion. While sucking deeply on the shaft, he slowly reached under and fondled Rick's balls. He felt them tighten nearly immediately, with the john's impending orgasm.

"Oh god—" Rick gasped, as if Daryl needed to be alerted to the fact that the man was about to cum. This wasn't his first damn time giving a blowjob. If he'd ever cared to count, he was surely halfway through the four-digit numbers by now.

Waiting for the tight, painful grasp in his hair, Daryl sucked Rick's cock with renewed fervor, pushing the man over the edge. The john's cock throbbed and pulsed in his mouth, shooting the sticky load onto his tongue.

It was strange, Daryl thought. The guy hadn't squeezed his head half to death mid-climax, like most of his johns. In fact, Rick was even still fucking stroking the side of his face. Somewhat nonplussed by those facts, Daryl momentarily forgot just how delicate his john was, as he pulled his mouth off of Rick with an audible, sloppy pop. He showed the man his tongue, almost as if he was proud that the man had followed through with _something,_ at least.

Rick had been looking at him, but at the sight of the cum on his tongue, just about passed out, head rolling back against the headboard.

Daryl managed to hold in a snort, and took advantage of Rick not looking at him, by grabbing for a tissue from the box on the night stand. He spat the guy's load into the tissue, then tossed it into the small trash can beside the bed. He grabbed another to wipe at the sides of his mouth, disposing of it too, just before Rick's head rolled forward again, catching his gaze.

Rick was pulling him up again, mostly by subtle physical suggestion. The man's hands were either side of his face, thumbs caressing his freshly-wiped cheeks, and he allowed himself to be dragged.

"You're so beautiful..." Rick breathed, kind, blue eyes flickering about his face and settling on his eyes.

Daryl didn't fucking know what to do with that 'information'. He was often called hot, sexy, even gorgeous on occasion. But beautiful? That was a pretty faggy way to fucking describe someone, wasn't it? It shattered his focus, dazedly drifting toward the man pulling him up.

"Can I kiss you again...?" Rick's eyes had flickered back down to his lips again while asking the question.

"Said kissin's allowed, remember?" Daryl muttered, extremely uncomfortable with the proximity combined with the sentiment, not even having the state of mind to be impressed the guy still wanted to kiss him after seeing the load on his tongue.

_I'm a whore, remember? Not your fucking boyfriend.._

Rick immediately sobered, releasing Daryl's face with a soft "Oh.. Right.." Almost as if he'd heard Daryl's thoughts.

Daryl nearly sighed with relief, but instead chose to extricate himself from between Rick's legs. He crawled backward on the bed, his cock uncomfortably hard between his legs, and ass still fucking leaking with that lube he hadn't needed in the end. _  
_

"Mind if I have a shower, or ya' wan' me to see ya' off?" Daryl asked, pulling his heel up onto the bed to hide his painful erection with the position of his leg.

"Uhh naw.. I don't mind.." Rick muttered, clutching at the blankets for something to cover himself, so Daryl just saved him the trouble by getting up and turning away. "I'll wait.." Rick's voice was still somewhat shaky from his orgasm, but it was also tinged with a certainty.

"Thanks.." Daryl mumbled, grabbing his phone and wallet and heading off into the tiny bathroom. Though he was still in a bit of a daze, he was somewhat amused by the thought of Rick catching the sight of the lube dribbling down his inner thighs. But he could almost swear he could hear the scratching of stubble against skin, and figured Rick was furiously rubbing his face again.

Finally away from the weird, kind john, Daryl grabbed a tiny towel and hung it next to the shower, after putting his personal effects on the sink for safe keeping. It wasn't that he specifically thought Rick might take advantage of them being left unattended, just that he'd learned his lesson a long time ago not to trust _anyone_. He worked the knobs with practiced precision, and ducked under the spray of the water, lathering himself up and cleaning himself, particularly his ass. Felt good to not be dribbling lube anymore, and as he scrubbed his body his arousal got the better of him.

Working with quick, mechanical motion, he jerked himself off. It was quick; he had been fairly damn well aroused, rubbing up against Rick, mutually stroking each other. Those soft hands through his hair instead of a harsh grip had been a nice change, too. His orgasm was more enjoyable than most of those he'd had recently, being roughly fucked by johns who were faceless in his memory purely for self-preservation. He washed his own cum off his hand, and before long he exited the bathroom, towed wrapped around his narrow waist and phone and wallet in hand.

Daryl was pleased to see that Rick was dressed again, shoes and all, and seemed mostly functional. The guy was even collecting his Nine Inch Nails CD from the boombox, and tucking it away in the wallet. After lowering his eyebrows that had raised at the thoughtful gesture, Daryl quickly grabbed his clothes from the floor, pulled them on, and sat down to put his socks and boots back on.

When he was done, he looked up to find Rick holding out his CD wallet. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking it and chancing a glance at the man's face.

Rick seemed somewhat detached, like he still didn't believe what had happened. Looked a bit ashamed, too, but then he quickly looked away as Daryl grabbed his bag from the floor and packed away his supplies. Lube and condoms went into the bag which he zipped up, and Zippo, cigarettes, wallet and phone into his pockets, along with the assorted other things from the coffee table. He even remembered to grab that open condom wrapper and chuck it into the bin, thinking of the poor bastards who had to clean the damn rooms.

"Ya' ready?" He asked, hooking the bag over one shoulder.

"Yeah.." Rick nodded, not meeting Daryl's gaze. He walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it.

When Daryl caught up, Rick handed him the key. He made sure to gently brush his fingers over the man's hand, and sure enough the man had a conflicted reaction: half a shiver, half a flinch. Daryl figured he had the walk to the car, and the ride back around the corner to try to get Rick comfortable enough with what he did to make him come back.

 _Challenge accepted_ _._

They walked down the stairs and to the carpark together, Daryl staying close, but Rick kept walking slightly farther away. When they got to the car, Rick went to get in, and Daryl gently grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Jus' gotta take back the room key and my stuff. Ya' still cool to wait..?" Again Daryl's act was perfect, his voice an alluring mix of uncertainty and longing.

Rick nodded and leaned against the car like he had when they'd arrived. Daryl gave Rick a full smile, and trailed his hand down the man's arm in a gentle caress before he left. Rick was becoming more and more comfortable after each touch, and even if he was set back a bit when Daryl acted too smug or cheeky, he bounced back when the contact was tender and intimate again. The guy really needed to be handled carefully.

As he ducked into the office, Daryl decided he definitely wanted the man as a new regular. He wasn't sure if Rick would want more after he went through with his original intention, but Daryl would sure as fuck do his best to make the man want to come back. He still didn't know why a nice guy had sought out a lower-than-low street hooker, musing again on the possibility of the physically distant wife.

Of course, it could just be that the man wanted some excitement in what was possibly a boring, stale life, and sex life. Could be a mid-life crisis, or hell, the guy could just want to try it with another guy, as was a common story from first timers too shy to just pick someone up in a bar for a proper 'affair' or 'one night stand' or some shit like that. Daryl didn't know, nor did he really care. He just wanted a john as nice as Rick to see him again. And again and again, preferably.

Bob came into the office at the sound of the bell, and Daryl handed over the room key and supplies bag. "Damage?" Bob asked with a slight grimace.

"Minimal." Daryl smiled, and Bob sighed with relief, as he continued. "Change the top covers on the bed, fresh towel fer the bathroom, empty the bin, and ya' should be alrigh'." The ecosystem at work.

"Great. Have a good night, Pretty Boy. Your favourite room should be ready in a half hour if you need it again." Bob returned the smile Daryl still wore, and just seemed pleased there wasn't too much to have cleaned up after the session.

"Can only hope, righ'?" Daryl grinned, and exited the office.

When he met Rick's gaze across the lot, his face lit up with a well-practiced combination of relief at seeing him again, and cockiness due to the fact that the man was looking him up and down again. Damn guy still looked like a model, all hips as he leaned against the modest car, thought Daryl.

"Alrigh'. Let's go." Daryl clasped Rick's elbow briefly, before circling around to the passenger side, and they got into the car, Daryl rolling down his window.

The drive was brief, and before long, the were pulling up where Rick had picked him up, Daryl's hand on the man's thigh again the whole way. He even put on his seat belt before Rick could ask, and was rewarded with a sheepish, somewhat strained smile of appreciation. When they were parked and the car was idling, Daryl didn't get out right away. Instead, he leaned over after unbuckling his seat belt. Placing his hand on Rick's chest, he leaned in close.

"Yer gonna come see me again soon, righ'?" He breathed against Rick's ear, and the man shivered. "Really want yer cock in me next time, baby," he purred, and pulled back enough to see Rick gazing at him intensely.

"Maybe.." Rick muttered after a big gulp.

"Hope so.." Daryl whined softly, leaning in once more to press an open mouthed kiss to Rick's jawline, and then moved down to suck gently over that Adam's apple he liked so much. Rick gasped, and Daryl moved back, running his hand down the man's chest to his stomach before finally pulling away proper. Then Daryl slid out of the car with effortless grace, and leaned in the window with his ass stuck out again.

"'M almost always 'round here. If 'm not, ya' can always ask fer Pretty Boy." Rick grimaced at being reminded of Daryl's street name, but nodded jerkily.

Daryl tapped the window frame lightly with his palm and backed off the car, locking eyes with Rick before the man pulled away from the curb. He watched the car drive off, memorising the licence plate for if - _no, when_ \- Rick came around again, and was too nervous to actually approach. He was pretty sure there would be a next time, at least one more. The guy had been pretty damn determined when asking for sex, and hadn't got it, even though he'd paid for it. Daryl didn't know if it was on purpose that the man hadn't asked for some money back, or whether he'd just forgotten. Either way Daryl was pretty chuffed that he'd managed to get paid for sex and get away with just a blowjob.

Pulling out his cigarettes to light one up, and distracted by looking for Michonne, Daryl didn't notice he was being approached from behind.

"Tha' one's pretty.." Came that annoying as fuck Irish accent floating toward him. And sure enough, Daryl caught an elbow to the flank, which he shoved away.

"Fuck off, Saint!" He growled, stalking over to where he usually met Michonne, smoking more quickly when she wasn't there.

"Ah, c'mon," the Irishman teased, slinging an arm over Daryl's shoulder, which he pointedly ignored. "Give 's t'e goods t'en. How was 'e?"

"He was fuckin' great. Nice cock, liked NIN, and didn't rip my hair out when I sucked 'im off. Now will ya' fuck off, ya' fuckin' Irish fag?" Daryl was done. Connor, known as Saint on the streets, was killing the last of the tiny buzz he'd had from being with the nice john. Daryl's 'pet name' for Saint was almost too ironic, given that out of the two of them, Daryl was the 'gay' one, as Connor was happy to service both men _and_ women.

"Ahh ye did'na even pull t'e whole package? Ye're losin' t'day, Pretty Boy.." Connor laughed, and slapped Daryl on the back before lighting a cigarette of his own.

Daryl and Connor's annoying competition involved just about everything: money pulled for a day's work; individual clients numbered for a day; streaks of a certain service; pretty much anything the Irishman could possibly bet on. How Michonne could stand to live with the guy, Daryl didn't fucking know. Could barely stand the guy's presence for more than a minute.

"Hey, fuck you. Guy paid fer the 'full fuckin' package', and was so happy with my fuckin' bj he didn't need anythin' else." Perhaps that wasn't strictly the truth, but Daryl felt the need to brag nonetheless.

"Now how t'e fuck didye manage t'at?" Connor seemed nonplussed, mouth agape and cigarette hanging from his mouth, and Daryl couldn't help but smirk.

"Wouldn't ya' like to know, Saint?" He stalked away, thinking he'd effectively ended the conversation, but the Irishman followed close behind. "Oi! Will ya' fuck off?! Yer scarin' away my tricks, ya' fucker!" Indeed, there had been a car already idling by the opposite curb, the driver eyeing Daryl, but when he returned the gaze, the guy took a glance at Connor hanging off him and quickly drove away.

"SEE?!" Daryl growled at Connor, shoving the Irishman forcefully away.

"Pfft!" Connor scoffed, finally giving him some room. "T'at guy was eyeballin' me, n't yerself."

Daryl rolled his eyes and continued stalking away from the annoying older male.

"Now that was a sight to see.." Daryl heard a laugh from behind him, a thankfully familiar, very welcomed laugh.

_Sammy! Save me from your asshole roommate!_

"Two fag whores yelling at each other on the street!" Michonne came into view, a cigarette to her full lips and a swagger to her hips.

 _Oh fuck you too!_ Daryl glared daggers at his best friend for the jab.

"Oh, come on, Boy, I'm just playing.." She cooed, walking over to Daryl and sliding an arm around his shoulders. His face must have been still expressing his intense irritation, because she turned to Connor and tried to shoo him away with her free hand. "Like he said, fuck off, 'ya' fuckin' Irish fag'..." Michonne imitated Daryl playfully, and Connor just scoffed again, but Daryl took a bit of pleasure in that the Irishman choked on the drag of his cigarette.

"Saint," Michonne began a little more seriously. "You might actually get a trick, if you pull your head outta poor Boy's ass long enough.." She nodded over to a car across the street, a pretty brunette inside who was nervously eyeing the Irishman.

"Ah!" Connor exclaimed after following Michonne's gaze. "Well t'en. 'M off t' get me some pussy. See ye later, Pretty Boy. Samurai." And after turning back to wink at Daryl, he plucked at the tight fishnet over his otherwise bare torso, stubbed out his cigarette, and began to swagger over to the car, ass swinging in his fake leather pants.

"Thank fuck he's gone.." Daryl sighed and sagged against Michonne, who took advantage of his consent to her touch and held him tight, before he broke away.

"Ah come on, he's not that bad.." Michonne smiled bemusedly like she enjoyed watching their arguments. "Not sure what that fucking babe wants with Saint, though.."

_She must be a cop who wants to bust him for dealing drugs. No sane, hot lady would want his dirty ass.. Fucking entrapment or whatever that shit is.._

"Dunno how ya' manage to live with 'im to be honest.." Daryl shook his head, drawing deeply on his cigarette and flicking the butt on the ground. Michonne shrugged.

"It's somewhere to live. And you just provoke him, somehow.." She gazed at him incredulously, like she couldn't quite understand it. Hell, he didn't.

"Whatever.." He mumbled, kicking at the ground near the cigarette butt.

"Pull yourself together, sweetheart." Michonne said firmly, but not unkindly. He looked back up at her, to see her gazing at him seriously. "Still got some tricks to make.."

"Yeah.." He shook his head, his blond hair flicking about, trying to get back into the groove.

"So...?" Michonne asked, and he tilted his head as he looked at her in confusion. She kicked his boot lightly "Oi. Tell me about that john! Blue sedan, handsome profile." She grinned, and he smirked back at her, lighting up another cigarette.

"Dunno wha' yer talkin' 'bout.." He teased, taking a drag and leaning against his favourite leaning wall, Michonne stalking over and joining him.

"You know the one, you shit! Spill! Now!" She ordered playfully.

He shrugged, smirking, and took another draw of his smoke, and she stared at him, scrutinising him.

"Oh my god. That good?" She prompted, nudging his shoulder with hers.

"'M up. I'll tell ya' later," he replied, nodding to another prospective john staring at him from across the road. "Promise," he assured, when she shoved his shoulder lightly, and she laughed.

"God, he must have been good.." He heard Michonne mutter as he walked over to the car.

Daryl went through his normal routine, leaning against the car and asking what the requested service was. Suck, no rubber. _Sweet, more money._ The john's name: John, ironic as fuck. Daryl got into John's car, and the guy took him around to the same damn alleyway where Len took him earlier.

John had an average sized cock, which Daryl licked and sucked like he had been lost in the desert and it would spring water instead of cum. And then came the hands tightly gripping his scalp like always - _almost_ always, he amended mentally, because Rick hadn't hurt him that way.

And as John alternated between tugging on Daryl's hair, and pushing his head down onto that average cock, Daryl drifted away in his mind. Self preservation, always. And he was curious to notice that the 'happy place' he found, was nestled between Rick's thighs, sucking on that nice cock, Nine Inch Nails playing in the background, and soft, tender fingers carding through his hair, and stroking his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We promise a nice big angsty Rick chapter next to see what he thought of the whole thing with Pretty Boy, with a necessary time skip. ~Eza


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous Rick feels and guilt. More insight into his relationship with Lori, and his friendship with Shane. And we meet some new faces - surprise cameos! 8D Also many thoughts about 'Pretty Boy'...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY back to Rick's POV!! ;A; This update is heavy on the plotty and emotional content, and much angst. We hope you enjoy~
> 
> (Also, I've been working on another piece in between, a sort of sequel to a certain little 'one-shot' named [For a Fuckin' Age](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3824890) *winks* and while you're here, why not check out my other Rickyl fics :D Eza~)

Rick's POV*

Rick drove away down Wood Street and around the corner toward normal society in a bit of a daze. He still couldn't believe what had happened. He'd actually done it. Well, almost.

When that condom came out, it had just become too real, the gravity of what he was doing had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he froze up. Couldn't follow through. And that beautiful young man had treated him with such tender caring like that which he hadn't experienced in a long time, and he'd near melted with appreciation.

Almost completely distracted with his musings, Rick found himself pulling up at a bar. He sat in his car for a while, considering what exactly to do with himself, and agreed with his subconscious; he needed to compose himself. He couldn't handle the walk of shame into the house just yet, though it wasn't likely that Lori would even be home.

Thursday night was book club with the ladies, apparently. Rick had had his doubts about Lori's whereabouts on those evenings - and many others - for a while, but the night before was the first time he'd confronted her about them.

She'd been defensive and horrified that he'd doubted her, he'd felt the guilt that she always managed to lay on him, and they'd both gone to bed angry and hurt.

So Rick walked into the bar, sat down, and ordered himself a drink. He wanted something hard, something to black out the torment of guilt, and other sensations that were painful because of how little guilt they actually carried. But he had to drive home eventually. Even if he had the next morning off due to night shift, he couldn't drink and drive, and couldn't even bring himself to consider leaving his car there and catching a cab home. So he settled with a beer.

He revisited his afternoon in his mind as he drank. Driving down that street had been terrifying, and yet strangely exhilarating. The few faces he'd first seen on the street hadn't interested him in the slightest, and he still hadn't known what he was looking for, until he'd seen that one. Pretty Boy.

The name still left a bad taste in his mouth, made him think of the young man as some sort of show pony, and that was horrid. He'd wanted to ask Pretty Boy's real name, but knew he'd never get it. He may not have ever picked on the sex workers personally, but he knew a lot of the basics. Knew that they never went by their real names, knew they had someone to answer to with their takings, or if they had no one for protection, they often didn't last long.

On his second beer, he briefly thought on the fact that he'd paid for more than he actually got, forking out the cash for sex, and even the damn motel room to only receive a blowjob. But hell if it hadn't been the best damn orgasm he'd ever had. Lori had never pleasured him with her mouth that way. She'd tried, of course, in the very early years of their marriage, but she gagged and spluttered her way through an act she clearly never enjoyed, and clearly resented him for daring to ask for it.

And there was the guilt again, churning in his gut and making him nauseated. He scrubbed his palms over his face, and immediately remembered the way the young man - he couldn't bring himself to even think that terrible name - had brushed his lips along Rick's jaw, peppering kisses down his neck and sucking on his damn Adam's apple. He'd never considered that an appealing thing before, but the way the blond had, god,  _worshipped_  it, almost..

And god dammit he was getting a little hard again. Shit.

Before it became too obvious, Rick quickly paid for his drinks, politely thanked the bartender, and rushed from the bar. By the time he was in his car, he had a full hard-on straining in his jeans.

The drive home was mercifully uneventful, and for once he was actually thankful that Lori wasn't home yet when he arrived. Shucking his clothes deep in the hamper and making a mental note to do laundry right after, he ducked into the shower.

As he washed himself, he did his best to resist the temptation. However, before long he was stroking himself, and the man in his sexual fantasy was no longer faceless.

Blond hair hanging over slightly sunken but powerfully beautiful deep, blue eyes. The face of the young man who had pleasured him so damn enthusiastically. He vividly remembered the way their cocks had looked rubbing together, each stroking the other's in tandem, and those damn kisses and nips on his neck and his chest and then oh god down his stomach and those lips finally wrapping around his cock and—

For the second time in only a few hours, he came, moaning out loud through gritted teeth and praying to god that his wife hadn't just arrived home and started looking for him. Legs trembling with his second most powerful orgasm ever, he had to brace his arm against the shower cubicle wall, water running down his back as his fantasy danced before his eyes. He could see the blond before him, his cum on the younger's tongue in what was simultaneously possibly the most obscene, yet fucking sexy thing he'd ever seen in his life.

He'd been struck by the beauty of the younger, forgetting where he was and just wanted to embrace the other the way lovers were supposed to. But they weren't lovers. The young man had been paid for the act. Whore, a word he'd never liked to use, was strong in his mind as he washed his cum off his hand and finished up in the shower.

Whore. Prostitute. They hadn't been lovers, not in the way that Rick always pictured lovers to be, but he'd been lost in the tender touches and soft kisses on his skin, everywhere but his lips. That one actual kiss they'd shared, Rick had had to initiate, and that worried him. Felt like it was something the blond didn't want to do.

 _'Said it's allowed, remember?'_  The younger had said, when Rick had requested a kiss. And that, just like that damn condom, had brought him back to reality. Back to knowing that the young man didn't actually want him like that. No one wanted him. No one wanted half a man.

As he stared at himself in the mirror with the towel hugging his hips and water dripping down his nape, he expected to see something different, something to indicate what he'd done. His shame. His betrayal. But he saw nothing different aside from a slightly swollen lip from being bitten so much. Not even any marks from what had felt like the strongest hickeys he'd ever had on his flesh. But obviously the blond knew how to elicit gasps and moans without leaving a shred of evidence, leaving the encounter like that of the most vivid dream.

Well-practiced. Not legitimately interested. Paid.  _Whore_.

No one wanted half a man.

No one wanted a man who hadn't been able to hold more than one friendship at a time since highschool, and even the legitimacy of his longest lasting friendship was now in question. No one wanted a man who couldn't conceive a child. No one wanted a man who couldn't please his wife, to the extent of actually pushing her into another man's arms.

And Rick was fairly damn sure that was the case, now that he had another perspective. Now that he'd done the walk of shame, instantly jumping into the shower to rid himself of the very essence of his infidelity. After all, how many times had Lori barely looked at him before rushing into the shower after returning from yoga or tennis or whatever it was. He was almost entirely sure that Lori was having an affair, and only slightly less convinced that it was with Shane.

He didn't know by whom he felt more betrayed: his wife of nearly twenty years, or his best friend of even longer.

But he had no evidence, and wasn't even sure whether or not he wanted to find any. Even if he and Lori were no longer passionate or hell, even loving, really. Even if she never met his gaze when she said she loved him, and those instances were spaced further and further apart as time went on. Even if they slept in the same bed but barely touched. Even if they hadn't made love in a long time.

Surely that false, mirage of a marriage was better than being alone.

Rick didn't think he could possibly bear the concept of working to impress some other woman and going through the motions of courtship only to be dropped again because  _no one wants half a man_...

Shaking his head to rid himself of the depressing slump into which he'd sunk, he pulled his razor out from the drawer, and his shaving foam. Lathering some on his hands, he nearly had his foamed up hand to his face before he hissed a deep sigh and washed off the foam. Lori didn't give a shit what he looked like anymore. She didn't even look at him half the time. So why should he bother putting in effort for a result that she never appreciated? He rather liked the way he looked with some stubble on his jaw. Made him feel more masculine, which was a welcome change. And hell if it hadn't been fucking erotic, the way that young man had rubbed his face along Rick's jaw...

Rick finished drying himself off and dressed in a pair of clean cotton boxers and a loose tee shirt. He quickly took everything from the hamper and dumped it all into the washing machine, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for the load. Damn machine was trying to make its way across the laundry room floor, shaking like there was a damn earthquake. Just another thing to add onto their expenses list, a new washing machine, and then another wave of guilt at the money he'd spent that afternoon.

When the washing was hanging on the inside line, Rick fixed himself something to eat from the leftovers in the fridge, and put himself to bed. Lori still wasn't home yet. That was better. Rick didn't think he could even meet her gaze, let alone talk to her, with the way he was feeling. He was still filled with guilt over what he had done - and even daring to masturbate to his memories after - but still hurting because of his certainty about her infidelity.

Rick fell asleep, vaguely wondering how the hell Lori's 'book club' meetings always went for so long, his wedding band heavily weighing on his finger and in his mind.

\--

Friday morning, Rick woke up groggy from sleeping for too long. It took him a while to get up, and by the time he was semi conscious, he was wondering where Lori was. Again. He shuffled his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and found a note on the fridge from his wife.

'You were already asleep when I got home. Didn't want to wake you. Had an early start because End of Month. Have a good night at work. Don't forget - grocery shopping tomorrow.'

Frowning, Rick pulled the note from the fridge, scrunched it up and tossed it in the trash can. End of Month. Damn but Lori could whinge and moan for hours about that. Invoices this. Purchase orders that. It made Rick extremely irritable just listening to his wife rant about her Accounts Payable job. But it helped to put food on the table, and payments on their debts.

Coffee in hand, Rick spent a while idly watching television, his attention elsewhere. His thoughts wouldn't stop drifting back to his time spent in that damn sleazy motel, the young man's lips on his neck and chest and down his stomach and his cock.

Before he left for work, he'd ended up jerking off again, hurriedly washing off his shame in the shower. He felt like a damn horny teenager, unable to stop the random erections from interrupting his day, trying to do housework and just keep his hands and mind busy. He wouldn't have relieved himself, except that he was scared of it happening again while he was at work. On night shift patrol. With Shane. Alone with Shane, all night.

The thought was so terrifying, he hoped it might just scare away the boners and leave him in peace.

Given his new revelation about his best friend and his wife, Rick had no idea how to act. How to behave around Shane, now that he thought the man was screwing his wife. Was pretty damn sure of that. Never having been very good at expressing his thoughts, or at confrontations in general, he decided it was best to attempt to act normally. Whatever the hell that meant.

It turned out to be easier than he had expected, to act normally around Shane. They met at the station and were debriefed for the shift, then set out on patrol. Rick drove, while Shane rambled on about anything and everything, though with some now noticable missing content.

Rick realised, likely due to his epiphany, that Shane wasn't talking about his random hookups anymore. There had once been a time when he couldn't go more than an hour before Shane thought of another random fact about his latest 'pair of boobs' about which to brag or complain.

Rick figured that was due to Shane's new 'pair of boobs' likely being his wife. It set him on edge, but when thinking of that too much, his thoughts drifted back to Wood Street, and that young man. He remembered setting eyes on the blond for the first time, and thinking 'that one', so hard it almost seemed to summon the younger's gaze, or well, the gaze of the woman to whom the young man had been talking.

He had done a couple laps of the block, before gathering the courage to even look at the youth for longer than a second. He'd felt like an idiot, like a rookie entering a new world. And hell, it was a new world, one into which he'd only peeked from outside. And when he'd finally managed to idle on the curb across the road, the woman next to the younger had seemed to push him over. And the way he'd walked over...

Rick had practically had to hold his jaw from dropping. The way the blond walked over to him, hips swinging in those tight jeans and glorious abs exposed.. He'd been so damn nervous, wringing his hands together until the youth was leaning on his car.

'Big boy', the blond had called him. He'd blanched at that, and just about peeled off the curb with smoke and burning rubber. But he'd been there on a mission, and then had been called 'baby' instead and even though that was still so alien for Rick, it was better than damn 'big boy'. 'Ya' want a suck or a fuck?' That had thrown him again, casting his gaze about wildly until he finally summoned the determination with which he had driven onto the damn street in the first place. He hadn't been able to say 'a fuck' in response, the words feeling lewd and obscene on his tongue as he tried to wrap it around them, but he'd managed to get his request across.

The smile that the youth had given him, like he'd just told the blond that he'd won the lottery. And then rolling his shoulders like that, exposing his neck like showing off an asset, but shit it had been sexy...

Rick's train of thought was interrupted by dispatch alerting him and Shane to a call out; a robbery that had just occurred not far away. Shane stopped talking about whatever the hell it was he'd been on about - Rick hadn't been paying him the slightest bit of attention - and they went to it.

By the time they got there the perp was well and truly gone, but they took the witness accounts and followed standard procedure. Then back to the station for the paperwork and filing the report and description of the robber.

The rest of the night passed mostly the same; a few speeding fines and one driver under the influence booked and forced to get a ride home from someone else. They stopped for coffee a few times, and got some food around one in the morning.

Miraculously, Rick managed not to think of the young man again all night.

Arriving home just before dawn, Rick shuffled quietly into the house, so as not to wake Lori. He'd glanced at the fridge on the way through the kitchen to check for any notes left by his wife, as she was wont to do, and balked when he looked at the calendar.

There, ominously, a black sharpie circled the date of the next Friday. Lori's next ovulation. Prime time for conception.

A lump rose in his throat as he considered their routine. What had once been passionate lovemaking with the hope of conceiving their miracle child, had become a cold, pathetic excuse for sex.

He had that Friday off, in exchange for doing a double shift on the Saturday. Sometimes they'd go out for dinner, trying desperately to rekindle something of the flame they'd once held for each other. Sometimes they'd get drunk and just fall into bed together, all impersonal and mechanical, and thinking of better days. It wasn't making love anymore, and hadn't been for a long time.

Rick quietly went to bed, making sure not to disturb Lori who was already well asleep. She'd be up in not too long anyway, Rick thought, as he laid down beside her, facing away from the middle like she was. He wondered when that had become a thing, that they didn't even face each other while sleeping. Probably around the same time they'd stopped cuddling on the sofa while watching movies late at night. How he'd missed that, just the gentle intimacy of snuggling up under a blanket together.

Rick didn't realise he'd even fallen asleep, before the alarm on his phone woke him up. 'Shopping', displayed over the LED screen; Lori must have set it. Though, given it was apparently midday, he figured that was probably enough sleep.

Once showered and dressed, Rick went downstairs to make himself a necessary coffee. Lori had other plans. Before he knew it, they were on the way to the supermarket.

As he pushed the trolley while Lori loaded it up, wondering why she even needed him there, he thought about how they'd acted around each other before heading off. He had been quite strained, but he didn't even think she noticed. She had been absorbed in her own world, compiling the shopping list without him.

"Lor?" A voice cut into his thoughts, and he turned to see one of Lori's old friends from college, Aaron. Aaron's boyfriend Eric held the basket with their own shopping.

"Aaron." Lori replied, putting on one of those false sweet smiles Rick hated so much. "Eric."

Aaron smiled back at Lori, though his smile was actually genuine. He walked over to embrace her, and Lori returned the hug very awkwardly.

"Eric." Rick nodded to the other man, who nodded back with a smile that clearly said 'I wish Aaron would just give up on her', and Rick's expression was of knowing, and sheepish apology.

"You two simply must come over to dinner next Saturday. It's been ages since we've spent proper time together." Aaron was inviting them over. Again.

"Ahh I'm sorry Aaron, Rick has a double shift next Saturday." And Lori was brushing it off. Again. And even using Rick as an excuse.

"Oh, well that's too bad." Aaron said, slightly down crest but still apparently not having given up. "Even if Rick can't come, you could-"

"I'm busy. Sorry." Lori cut Aaron off in a way that said she was not sorry at all.

"Oh.. okay then.." Aaron seemed extremely deflated, perhaps finally getting the not so subtle hint. "Another time then maybe.."

"Yes, maybe.." Lori replied vaguely, dragging the trolley down the aisle.

Rick winced at the heartbroken expression on Aaron's face. Just in time for Lori to glance back, Eric clasped Aaron's hand and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

"Really.. in public.. disgusting.." Lori muttered under her breath as they walked away and into the next aisle, and Rick frowned hard.

"Lori.." he said sternly, and Lori just shrugged.

That was another thing about her that pissed him off. She was so damn homophobic. Even toward Aaron, who had once been a very good friend of hers back in college. Hell, Rick was pretty sure they'd even dated for a bit, before Aaron either came to terms with, or was willing to admit that he was gay.

Rick wondered briefly what Lori would think if she found out what he'd done only two days ago. He'd been with a man, he'd touched and kissed, and been pleasured by that beautiful young man. He was still undecided on whether he would go back or not. He hadn't got what he'd paid for, and what he'd been there to do in the first place. But he could only blame himself. The youth had been more than accommodating to him, taking care of him with gentle touches and soft kisses anywhere but his lips.

Again he felt mildly guilty about kissing the young man, given the blonde clearly didn't enjoy such an act. But the younger was used to offering his body for whatever service his client required, so surely he wouldn't do just anything. He'd explained his limits, and they'd sounded more like common sense than dislikes, really. So maybe the blond wasn't one to say no..

That thought struck Rick like lightning, pinning him to the floor in the middle of whatever aisle to which he'd drifted while distractedly following Lori. The realisation that the young man would likely acquiesce to literally any fancy that passed through his mind...

And more sick guilt twisted inside him, and he was instantly disgusted with himself. How dare he, really. He'd thought that the name Pretty Boy made it seem like the blond was some sort of show pony, and there he was, thinking of what tricks the show pony could perform for him.

Unable to even continue that train of thought, he absorbed himself into the task before him, on which he hadn't even realised Lori was asking his opinion: light, or full cream milk.

-

Saturday evening came, as did night shift, and Rick was once again alone in the cruiser with Shane. The conversation was natural, yet Rick noticed again the lack of mention of women from Shane. He did his best to just grit his teeth and deal with it, lest he find himself slamming on the brakes, hurling himself and then Shane out of the car, and shoving his partner against the door in an arm lock and demanding the truth so he could attempt to just start with some damn closure.

Instead he thought back on the day, and seeing Aaron and Eric at the grocery market. They were nice people, Rick thought, though he hadn't really had the chance to get to know Eric. Ever since Lori found out Aaron was 'a queer', by her words. That was about six months ago.

He hoped to see them again, maybe even take Aaron up on the offer of dinner, and go without his rude wife. He felt slightly bad about the thought of going behind her back, but considering she'd done much worse things behind his, he figured the world would forgive him. Of course, he had done something behind her back now, too. Again, his thoughts drifted back to that young man.

But now they were mingled with the thoughts of Aaron and Eric, and the possibility of two men being happy together. He'd never had romantic feelings about another man, certainly, but it was a new string of thought he'd never had previously.

"C'mon, turn right up here.." Shane mumbled, breaking into Rick's thoughts and bringing him forcibly back to the present. He really shouldn't have drifted away so bad while they were driving, but he had been doing this for years, and could easily keep a train of thought and his eyes on the road simultaneously. It was just Shane that he was starting to block out.

He followed Shane's direction, and was startled to realise they were turning onto Wood Street. His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles turning white, but thankfully there was another excuse he could use for his anxiety.

"Shane." He said firmly. "I ain't picking up some poor lost soul on Wood Street. There's much worse criminals we could be working on." He turned his eyes off the street for a moment to glare at Shane, and hoped that his expression wasn't giving him away.

"Naw man, just seeing if there's anything going on is all. Also, it's a shortcut to my favourite burger joint." Shane gave him one of those shit-eating grins that he was learning to hate, and he sighed and kept driving.

Hoping to hell he wouldn't find that young man, he inspected every face on the street. He recognised a few from his last drive down, and prayed they didn't recognise him. He noticed that as they drove, those faces were turning around and inconspicuously moving off the street, and Rick felt a slight pang of guilt for scaring people who were just doing what they needed to do to survive.

"Rick, pull over. There." Shane pointed to the side of the road where a young blonde woman was walking slowly on the sidewalk.

"Shane what are you—" Rick started with a growl.

"I just wanna show you something, man. Just pull over." He didn't know what the hell Shane was wanting to 'show him', but he acquiesced, just trying to keep the peace.

"Fine." Rick hissed through gritted teeth, just about totally done with his partner. He indicated and pulled over to the side of the road, as Shane wound down his window.

"Hey there girlie, where you going?" Shane leered at the poor girl, and Rick saw red.

"Oh, I'm just lookin' for—" The blonde started sweetly, before turning around to see who was rolling slowly beside her. When she did, her eyes widened in horror for a second until she hid the expression, seeming a little unfocused. "What, is walkin' down the street illegal now, mister?"

"Naw, we's just checking up to see if you're alright, darlin'." Shane chuckled, and Rick had to work hard not to wrench his partner out of the chair and throttle him.

"Well I'm fine,  _thanks_." She drawled, glaring intensely at Shane.

"Miss, it's dangerous out on a night like this. You should get on home, now." Rick interjected loudly before Shane could say another word, and his partner gaped at him bemusedly. The young woman gaped at him as well, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, before turning away again.

"Whatever." The blonde replied, rolling her eyes and walking a bit faster away.

Rick had to get back out onto the road to avoid the cars parked on the curb, and he glared at Shane after his shoulder-check.

"What the  _hell_  was that about, Shane?" Rick growled at his partner, eyes darting around the street to make sure the one face he wanted to see any other time, wasn't there at that exact moment. His luck held.

"She's a whore, man." Shane chuckled, eyebrows raised at Rick, who felt sickened by the words and tone from his partner.

"What." Rick replied with a grunt, less of a question and more of a 'how dare you talk about that young woman like that'. Sex worker or not - and it was fairly obvious that was what she was - Rick didn't like the way Shane was talking about her.

"Yeah, man. Whore. Junkie, too." Shane still sounded amused, and Rick hissed angrily, his nostrils flaring.

"What are you on about?" He hoped that given one last chance, his partner would see just how pissed off he was, and change to at the very least a more tactful tone. He was not overly surprised, just disappointed, when that was not the case.

"Been brought in a bunch of times for solicitation and possession." Shane chuckled again, and Rick tightened his grip on the steering wheel, so he wouldn't wrap his fingers around his partner's throat instead. "Doesn't uh.. Doesn't always get charged though, if ya know what I mean.." Shane smirked at Rick, clearly unaware of the effect of the conversation was having on him.

"No,  _Shane_  I don't know what you mean.." But he had a sneaking suspicion about the general idea.

"Man, she's given blowjobs to have charges dropped. To a deputy. To one of  _our_  deputies. How nasty is that?" Shane's smirk was still plastered on his face, and Rick felt ill. "She's all 'no mister, the drugs ain't mine, I was just holdin' 'em for someone but I'm real sorry, is there anythin' I can do to show how sorry I am?'  _god_.." Shane had put on a higher tone to imitate the young woman, and laughed after. "I mean I've only heard of it happening once or twice, but  _yeah_  I mean how can you even—"

"This is it, right?" Rick interrupted Shane, nodding at the burger joint coming up around the corner. Thank god they were off Wood Street. He could finally relax a little, but his mind was full of bad deputies, that young blonde woman, and Pretty Boy.

"What? Oh, yeah. This is it. They do a  _mean_  burger, man." Shane was successfully distracted, and for that Rick was glad.

They went through the drive-through, and sat in the cruiser in the car park to eat, in case they were called out. Thankfully Shane's mouth was too busy with his food to talk much. The only negative result from that was that it gave Rick time to think while he ate.

That deputy who had accepted a sexual favour for dropping the charges against the young woman. What a despicable man, Rick thought. Shane hadn't told him who it was, and wasn't likely to, he supposed, but he couldn't help but try to figure it out. When he pictured all of his fellow deputies, he couldn't imagine one taking advantage of their power in such a horrible way, to harm one of the very people they were supposed to protect. They were supposed to be the guardians of the people, protect and serve, as it were. Yet there was one man almost entrapping the young woman, because after performing such an act, she could very easily have been charged with not only the drug possession, but also solicitation of a police worker.

If the statistics were anything to go by, law enforcement officers were commonly involved with sex workers, and not just for making arrests. Officers were known as common clients for the sex workers, but if one believed the numbers, they were also very often the ones being accused of abusing, sexually harassing, and even raping the street walkers. God, was that what he was? A part of the problem? Even if he had treated the young man with respect, and paid him well, wasn't Rick still just a statistic?

After all, what he did was illegal. A criminal act. To accept and offer of sexual solicitation, that was just as illegal as being the one doing the soliciting. It made Rick's stomach turn, and in the end he couldn't finish his burger, satisfactory morsel as it was. He gave the rest of it to Shane who eagerly polished it off with some disturbing pleasurable grunts and moans, and before long they were back out on patrol, and Rick made sure not to go  _anywhere_  near Wood Street.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you SURE you don't want to go back on Wood Street, Rick? Is this your last word? ;D ~Sheenaz


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More gratuitous Rick feels and layers of guilt, followed by some serious decisions. Also Shane stuff, and some wet trousers. Surprise-ish cameo -because I ruined it lol - by Channing Tatum's rippling back muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Hope the angst/plottiness makes up for it! Thank you for sticking with us this long, and hope you can continue to do so.

Somewhere around two in the morning, Rick and Shane received a call out from dispatch for a noise complaint out in the suburbs. When they arrived at the house, they discovered it was due to a party full of underage drinkers, most of whom scattered the moment they pulled up. The ones who had been outside smoking and drinking and whatever else, anyway.

With simultaneous sighs, Rick and Shane got out of the cruiser, Rick hitching up his belt and straightening his hat, with a tired nod at Shane. Shane was grumbling and bitching about the call out being a waste of time, about the 'little shits' who were interrupting his Saturday night. Rick raised his eyebrows at his partner as they walked toward the door.

"C'mon Shane, it's not like we never drank underage, remember?" He asked his partner as he knocked loudly on the door.

"Aww man that was different." Shane whined, and Rick shook his head with a bemused grin. Bloody hypocrite, Rick thought.

The change in mood had been due to a culmination of a few events. Just before midnight, the pair had taken a quick break to get some coffee, and due to a simple fumbling of limbs, Shane had ended up with a lap full of hot drink. He had cussed, and flailed about, wiping with a napkin to try to save his skin from the scalding, followed by whinging and groaning about his pants. They had been about to go back to the station to get a change of pants for Shane, when they'd received an urgent call out, and had to rush off instantly.

It was like the universe was punishing Shane for being so tactless about the young blonde woman earlier in the evening. When they got to the bar to break up the nasty brawl, wary of the knives that had been drawn, the frat boys had turned to shout obscenities at the officers, and been instantly distracted. Amid the shouts of 'the fuckin' pig's pissed himself!', the youths were laughing so hard that they forgot about their fight, clutching at their sides. Rick thought he might have almost popped a vein in his temple, trying not to laugh at Shane's misfortune as well.

The door opened, and after a brief exchange the person let them in, Rick having to do most of the talking because Shane seemed to want to be a dick about it. They had been there, nicking alcohol from Shane's dad to have a few drinks on occasion when they were teenagers, and here were definitely a few teenagers in the house. Rick chastised them all one by one about the dangers and their responsibilities and the usual lawman guilt trips, and most of them had the decency to at least look ashamed. Shane was another story, but with their good cop bad cop routine, they worked together mostly well, Rick making up for Shane's lack of empathy.

There was a group of drinkers out the back of the house, who kept on unabashedly drinking when he and Shane went outside. The debris of assorted types of alcohol was littered around them, along with ashtrays and buckets overflowing with cigarette butts.

"Havin' a good night, guys?" Rick asked with a bemused smile at the bold youths who even continued to drink under the stare of two officers. "Alright, IDs, thanks people.." He took it upon himself to be the voice of law, given Shane's less than neutral demeanor when faced with  _more_  young drinkers.  
  
A collective groan echoed around the bottle and can strewn table, but each of the young drinkers retrieved their identifications nonetheless. Rick and Shane circled the table, checking that each was over 21, which they were. One particular youth whose ID said he was 22 caught Rick's eye. The guy was just some average college kid, with an average reaction to the deputies crashing the party, and wearing average clothes, except one piece. Faded blue washout jeans, ripped at the knees.  
  
 _Pretty Boy._  
  
A lump formed in Rick's throat as he handed the kid the ID, and he tried not to gag on the spot, making his way back to the cruiser with Shane after the routine 'don't give anyone underage alcohol' lecture, which he'd had to let his partner give. It had come off as more of a threat than a warning, with Shane's mood.  
  
22 years old. Could easily be exactly the age of the beautiful young man Rick had picked up on Thursday evening.  _Fuck._  
  
 _I nearly fucked a boy... Christ, I could be his father, he's so young.._

Rick was unable to refrain from doing some terrifying math. Just how young exactly was the beautiful blond when Rick and Lori had married. His stomach roiled when he realised that the youth surely couldn't have even been born, when Rick himself was in highschool.

He was struck with horror, so much that when they were barely out of the driveway Shane looked over with concern from the driver's seat.

"Ya alright, man?" He asked, gripping the wheel in that way he did that made it look like he was too cool to be driving a police cruiser, yet Rick knew he was still fiercely proud of it.  
  
But Rick was choked up, just shaking his head and waving Shane on, who was now looking on in concern, anger at his night fading in Rick's obvious distress.  
  
"C'mon, man. 'Fess up. What's goin' on?"  
  
Shit. He was terrible at keeping secrets from Shane, and recently they'd only been piling up. He couldn't say anything. Fucking couldn't. Guy might have been fucking his wife, but was still his best friend - and he tried not to be too depressed by that fact - and a good friend of said wife.  
  
Just when Rick thought he was going to pop or break from the stress, he was saved by the bell. Or the CB, calling them out to a robbery in progress with an armed perp. Saved by the CB was fucking right.  
  
The callout went fairly routine, the robber just a scared kid who gave up easily, handing over his plastic gun in shame, as well as the money he'd raided from the register. The youth was shabby, looked malnurished. Had stolen food from the sandwich fridge. Possibly homeless, or on the cusp at least.  
  
The store owner refused to press charges, given no one had got hurt, and not wanting to punish the kid for doing what he obviously thought was his only option for survival, his last resort.  
  
Filled with deep respect for the old man who owned the shop, Rick let Shane drive again, his mind once again on the young man with the angel wing vest. God, why did every train of thought lead back to him?  
  
Rick was still determined not to go back to Wood Street to seek out Pretty Boy, but still felt no regret for paying for more than he'd got. The beautiful young blond was only doing what he thought he needed to do to survive, and while that filled Rick with sadness and a strong sense of pity, he couldn't resent the young man for not offering any of the money back. After all, who knew what kind of 'protector' Pretty Boy had to answer to..  
  
-  
  
Late Sunday morning found Rick sleeping in late, eventually getting roused by Lori for 'breakfast' for the typical affair of sad, lumpy pancakes.  
  
They sat in silence with their pathetic meal. They no longer enjoyed the hopeful conversation topics of days past, musing on their future and happily anticipating the day they finally started their family. It was just routine. Sad, cold, routine. Their whole life was, these days.  
  
For the rest of the day, they each did their allocated housework, Lori taking care of the inside - the dusting, vacuuming, bathrooms and laundry - while Rick worked outside on the garden that neither of them really cared about anymore. He clipped the hedges, trimmed the rose bushes, glared at the herb garden that had once been a pet project for a very excited Lori a few years ago that was now an eyesore, neither of them overly concerned about either turning it into something else or destroying it altogether.  
  
Early evening when it was cooler, Rick mowed the lawn. It was hot work, even as the sun began to droop in the sky, and eventually he looked over to the porch to see Lori had left out a cold bottle of soda for him. He sighed sadly and went over to fetch the drink, parched and in dire need, and remembering the days of fresh, home made lemonade.  
  
Lori used to bring one out to him, a lemon wedge on the glass and a less than subtle hand sliding down his sweaty back and then up under his shirt as he quenched his thirst, more often than not followed by a hot make out session and once or twice even rushing inside and barely making it to the bedroom before they were tearing each other's clothes off, laughing after about hoping the mower wasn't complaining about being left on standby as they held each other tight.  
  
But those days were long behind them, and Rick was left with a lone bottle of Coke left out on the table, and Lori zipping back inside before he even saw her.  
  
When the mowing was finished, Rick contemplated going for a jog after. He was already warmed up and sweaty, but he figured he'd done enough of a work out for the day. The crunches from trimming the plants, and the cardio from pushing the mower around for an hour. So he went inside and had a shower, changing into a clean pair of sweats.  
  
When he came downstairs, Lori was curled up on one side of the couch under a blanket with a hot chocolate, watching a movie on TV.  
  
"What are you watching?" He asked, taking a seat beside her, noticing with a stab of pain that she shifted slightly to be further away, eyes still glued to the TV where a couple appeared to be getting very intimate. But there was soft music playing and the actors were laughing about something, so he figured it wasn't porn. Not that he'd ever imagine his stick in the mud wife ever doing such a thing, anyway.  
  
"Some romcom.." Lori shrugged, taking a sip of her drink and not even sparing him a glance.  
  
"You don't even know which one it is?" He asked, slumping in the couch.  
  
"Mmph-" Lori shrugged again, and it was starting to piss Rick off. "Not sure, caught it halfway through, but it's got Channing Tatum, so whatever.." She was staring all misty eyed at the actor's rippling muscles, and Rick started to feel sick instead.  
  
He suddenly felt very self conscious of his exposed chest, and one hand wrapped around the other bicep. He used to be a lot more built, used to go to the gym with Shane a few times a week, but he hadn't been able to handle macho, testosterone hopped up Shane being a grand asshole to almost every other gym goer in the end, and had stopped going. To stay fit, he went jogging a few times a week, and most of the time he was fairly happy with his figure, being fairly lean but toned, but it was times like this, with Lori drooling over Channing fucking Tatum that he wondered. Wondered if that was one of the reasons she wasn't attracted to him any more. Maybe she didn't want his skinny ass on top of her any more, not when she could have buff Shane..  
  
"Goin' to bed.." Rick muttered softly, not even bothering to try to kiss his wife goodnight. "Goodnight, Lori."  
  
"Night." She said simply, and her eyes remained steadfast on Tatum's heaving, unrealistic back muscles.  
  
With a shallow sigh, Rick headed upstairs and put himself to bed. He was fast asleep well before Lori came up.  
  
-  
  
Monday passed entirely average, as did Tuesday. Tuesday night saw Lori at 'yoga', and Shane at the gym straight after work. Rick's suspicions mounted, but he still didn't have proof. Also still didn't know if he even wanted proof. It would be the nail in the coffin of his and Lori's marriage, and pathetic as it was, he still didn't want it to end. Distant as they may be, close but not intimate or loving was better than being alone, as far as he was concerned.  
  
And he still felt as though he didn't have it in him to court some other woman. A flash of Lori's friend Aaron with his boyfriend Eric came crashing into Rick's mind. Oh no, he wasn't going down  _that_  road. Hell, the only thing he'd ever done with another man was have sex once- well. He hadn't even done that.  
  
That was the only time that Rick even briefly thought of the young blond from Wood Street, until Wednesday.  
  
-  
  
"Hey Shane. Can I borrow your phone? Mine's flat. Damn smart phones.." Rick muttered, already reaching out to accept Shane's phone.  
  
They were out on patrol, mid afternoon, and Shane was just about to go get them some coffees. He turned back and pulled his phone off his waist clip and handed it to Rick.  
  
"Sure, man." He said with a snort, and left to get their drinks.  
  
Rick thought he knew what that snort was about. He tended to have too many apps running that he didn't even know about, draining his battery for things he wasn't even using. Shane was all up with the times, face timing - whatever that was - and challenging everyone else's scores on the latest addictive tap game. Despite the fact that Shane was only a few years younger than him, it made Rick feel much older than he was.  
  
He unlocked the screen with Shane's pin - '6969' - shaking his head, dialed Lori's number, and was met with message bank immediately, his wife's crisp voice telling her caller to just text her, because she rarely checked her voice mail.  
  
Rick shook his head again and went to compose a new message, entering Lori's number in the recipient box.  
  
[Phone's dead. Was just gonna ask if you would like me to get Chinese food for dinner. Call me on Shane's phone. -Rick xo]  
  
He tapped 'send' and watched as the phone loaded the message, returning him to the messaging history for the contact. He was about to lock the screen, not wanting to pry when something caught his eye. Lori and Shane's last few texts.  
  
Shane:  
[Don't forget to tell Rick about the 21st. ;)]  
Lori:  
[I won't, don't worry~ ;* ]  
  
Lori's message ended with a kiss emoticon, but Rick didn't think too much of that. She was often wont to hug and kiss her friends on the cheek, and Shane was more like Rick's brother than a friend, really. Still...

Ever one to consider someone innocent until proven guilty, he pushed it from his mind, accepting his coffee when Shane returned with only a slightly strained smile, handing the phone back in silence.  
  
Lori didn't call him back, but as she was still struggling through End of Month at work, it wasn't all that much of a surprise.  
  
When he got home, he plugged his phone into the charger, and took a shower while he waited for it to get some battery. Dry and dressed, he turned on the phone and unplugged it, aimlessly wandering out of the bedroom as he read a message Lori had sent him a few hours ago.  
  
[No thanks. I'll be back late at work anyway, - no eta. Fuck end of month. Also meant to tell you that the weekend of the 21st I've got a work social getaway - no spouses invited :( -so I'll be gone from straight after work Friday through to Sunday night.]  
  
Rick gaped at the message, mouth hanging open in disbelief. A whole weekend away? A work thing? Wracking his mind, he couldn't for the life of him remember a social club thing that had been a whole weekend before. The nerve of Lori telling him via text message about this whole thing, and- wait...  
  
No spouses? Every social club event had  _always_  been plus ones welcome. Something wasn't right...  
  
 _Don't forget to tell Rick about..._  
  
A growl issued from Rick's throat, low and feral, and he damn near threw his phone to the ground, clenching it in his fist so hard that the plastic case creaked and nearly broke.  
  
 _I knew it..._  he thought furiously.  _I fucking knew it, but I was too much of a coward to imagine I was right..._  
  
Rick stomped through the room, barely realising he had ended up in the spare room. His gaze tore over the stacks of boxes strewn across the floor, high and leaning and threatening to crash down on him.  
  
And simply needing an outlet for his rage, he grabbed one of the boxes at the top of a stack and threw it with such force that the cardboard crashed open, spilling its contents all over the floor.  
  
He was thankful for a split second that what was inside was not breakable, until he really looked, and then he was roiling with anger and heartbreak at the sight: assorted babies clothes and toys that he and Lori had been collecting over the years, originally searching through baby stores for the perfect crawler or booties or teddy bear, and some that they'd simply stumbled upon hanging from the aisles of the grocery market that they just  _had_  to have, always waiting and wishing and hoping for their baby.  
  
But the hope had dwindled over their years of trying, and failing to conceive had broken more than their bank accounts; it had broken their marriage. Broken their bond. Broken them.  
  
And Lori was either so tired of their marriage and their failures, or tired of them and Rick in general that she was seeking out her own happiness. Whether it was just sexual gratification or whether she was in love with Shane and had fallen out of love with him, Rick didn't know.  
  
But if Lori was happy to throw aside their vows and promises for herself, why should he keep to them? Why should he remain dutiful husband while she gallivanted with his best friend behind her back? He didn't mean to spite her - or hadn't originally, anyway - but he had for once done something for himself, tried to find some shred of happiness or satisfaction at doing the thing he'd wanted to do his whole life. It didn't hurt that he'd actually felt  _wanted_  for the first time in years either, even if he'd paid someone to pretend to want him.  
  
He didn't even realise he'd been thinking of that beautiful young man again, but it was clear in his mind what he would do. What he wanted to do. What he  _needed_  to do.  
  
He would go back to Wood Street, and he would find Pretty Boy, all sleek and confident and tender, and he would pay the blond again and he would finally do something for himself, and this time, he would damn well go through with it.  
  
He would have sex with a man like he'd always fantasised about, and he would fucking enjoy it. With a fierce determination burning through his entire being - and just a hint of arousal with anticipation - he thought,  _Lori can go to hell._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we will be jumping back a little to see how the week after servicing Rick went for Daryl.
> 
> As always, comments and questions are _always_ welcomed! 8)  <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please bear with me/us! I have researched a decent amount into the inner workings of sex workers and have a close personal friend who works with real life sex workers, though they are in Australia and not America and are in better conditions than Daryl and his Walker buddies.


End file.
